


Sneaking Out

by TasteTheRainbow



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteTheRainbow/pseuds/TasteTheRainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jared transfers to a new school for his senior year, he expects to be as invisible as he's always been. It doesn't take long for him to realize that being noticed isn't the worst thing in the world, especially when Jensen is the one paying attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sneaking Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for j2_afterclass

For eleven years, Jared sat in the corner of the classrooms in his old school district, Central, hoping to hell that nobody would notice him and finding wild success with it. For eleven days, he's been doing the same damn thing at North Side High School. There are thirteen miles separating one school from the other but it might as well be the same place as far as Jared's reputation is concerned.

It's nobody's fault but his own. He had the advantage of being the new kid – girls and guys alike were curious and took interest in him for a couple of days – but his inability to find the right thing to say at the right time pitched him right back into Loser Land, where he spends his days eating lunch under a tree on the quad and pretending that he's just bookish, not painfully shy.

If he's looking at the bright side, his old school's curriculum was a little bit behind this one's, so it's been good to have the alone time every day to get caught up on his reading. He likes _The Great Gatsby_ well enough but it's taking more of his concentration than the books he was assigned last year. He needs to catch up. This is for the best.

The only problem is that Jared isn't the most organized guy in the world and he can't find his highlighter in the bottom of his never-ending backpack at the moment. At least there's no one around to see him grow more and more frustrated.

“Here,” a deep voice sounds at his side, yellow highlighter plopping down on the open book in his lap.

Surprised, Jared looks at the visitor and his voice catches in his throat. “Thanks,” is what he means to say. It comes out sounding like a choked little whine. Awesome way to make a first impression on the hottest guy in his new class.

Jensen Ackles just sits and looks out over the quad, arms resting casually on his upturned knees. His eyes are shielded by mirrored aviators but he's smirking, so Jared counts it as a pseudo-win. He's not outright laughing so that's something.

“You settlin' in alright?” 

God, Jared wants to answer. He wants to say 'yeah, it's fine' or 'no, nobody talks to me' but nothing sounds cool enough so he just settles for nodding, eyes focused on his book without actually seeing any of the words.

“Some unsolicited advice, dude?” Jensen doesn't wait for Jared to answer before he says, “Easier to make friends if you actually move closer to the people.” He nods toward the other kids lounging in groups around the courtyard. Leaning over, he then sniffs at Jared's shoulder and smiles. “I mean, you don't stink or anything. Good-lookin' guy like you? Shouldn't be a problem.”

Jared can feel the heat that starts in his neck and bleeds up to his cheeks then down to his chest. “They're kind of intimidating,” he admits, like they're friends or something.

With a shrug, Jensen straightens and drops his head back, face tipped to the sun. “You should see 'em drunk.” 

Admitting that his only exposure to drunk people is limited to his dad and uncles at Thanksgiving seems lame, so Jared doesn't say anything. He taps Jensen's highlighter against the edge of his book and wishes that he had something to offer to this conversation. It would be pretty cool if someone as popular as Jensen Ackles actually thought he was friend-worthy.

Standing, Jensen wipes his hands over the backs of his thighs and rests a hand against Jared's shoulder. “Take a chance, man. Get to know some people.” 

He's taken about three steps when Jared blurts, “Your highlighter,” like a master conversationalist.

Jensen stops and casts a glance over his shoulder, tongue traveling his bottom lip in a way that is far more attractive than Jared thinks it should be. “Tell ya what,” Jensen smiles, pivoting and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You know who Danneel Harris is?” 

“Does anybody _not_ know who Danneel is?” Jared asks automatically, feeling like a tool before the words are even out of his mouth. Seriously, though? Danneel is the student body president and all-around It Girl at North Side. Jared's only been here a couple of weeks but he's well aware of who Danneel Harris is.

“Guess not,” Jensen says, smile growing at the idea that Jared actually knows someone. “Buncha people are hangin' out at her place tonight. Why don't you bring my highlighter back to me there?”

It's a school night and there is no way that Jared's parents are going to let him go to a party when they haven't even met Danneel's parents. Still, Jensen is looking at him like he expects Jared to say 'no' and he doesn't want to be the kid who looks too scared to try something new. He doesn't know how he's going to get out of the house and over to Danneel's, but he hears himself saying, “Okay,” anyway.

The proud grin that Jensen shoots before he heads back toward the building is more than worth it.

 

 

Convincing his parents that he was going to be studying late at the university library was easier than Jared thought it was going to be. But, now that he's here at Danneel's, he's wondering if maybe he should have actually gone that route instead.

There hasn't been any trouble or anything – people have actually been really friendly to him – but Jared just doesn't feel like he fits. He's never done anything like this before, never been big into parties or dancing or drinking. He knows that it's what people his age are supposed to do and everything, but he hasn't exactly been afforded a wealth of opportunities. Now that he’s been given the chance, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Mostly, he sits on the couch and tries not to look like the creepy, staring kid that he feels like he is. It's hard not to watch Danneel making out with Katie Cassidy over by the stereo or to notice that Misha Collins is passing a joint with a couple of guys that Jared recognizes but can't name out on the porch. He's lost count of the number of beers he's turned down already and he's only been here for a half hour.

“Jared, right?”

He looks up to see Genevieve Cortese, a petite little thing from his Physics class, dropping onto the couch at his side. There's no one else on the couch but she seems to think that squishing up against his side is the best plan of attack. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, hands twisting in his lap as he mangles a smile in her direction.

“Someone holdin' a gun to your back or somethin'?” She turns around, kneels on the couch and tries to look between it and the wall, as though she's actually looking for someone with a gun fixed on the back of Jared's seat. It's possible she's a little drunk.

“No,” Jared laughs a little as he shakes his head. “No, I'm just not-” He stops speaking and clears his throat, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “This isn't really my scene, I guess.”

With a roll of her eyes, Genevieve throws an arm around his shoulder. “Trust me, man. There are, like, three people here who actually feel like they fit in. The rest of us just get drunk enough to forget that we don't.” She pulls her arm back and sips from the red, plastic cup in her hand. “So what's your story, Jared? Tell me about you.”

Before Jared can tell her that there's nothing interesting to say about himself, someone sinks to the arm of the couch and leans heavily against his side. Thanks to their little conversation earlier, Jared knows the scent of Jensen, and he may be smiling a little brighter when he turns to see him, sans sunglasses this time, grinning back. 

“You came,” Jensen announces as though Jared doesn't realize he's here. Jensen takes a long drink from his cup and then licks his lips obscenely before he smacks a hand against the center of Jared's chest. “I gotta go talk to Misha for a sec. Don't you move your sweet ass, Padalecki. I'll be back in, like, five. Possibly ten.” He jumps up and spins, stumbling a little and pointing. “I mean it. Be here when I get back.”

“Word of advice,” Genevieve says, resting her head against Jared's shoulder until he turns his attention back to her. “Jensen's not really the kinda guy you wanna put too much stock in, okay?”

Instead of admitting that Genevieve is remotely right, Jared just shakes his head and gives her a good-natured smile. “I'm not putting any stock in him,” he explains, laughing like it's the craziest thing he's ever heard. “I just. He invited me.”

“I'm sure he did,” she nods. “I mean, he's a good guy, Jared. Life of the party and everybody loves him and everything. He's just. He's not exactly the most focused guy in the world, ya know?” Jared's expression apparently says that he's not following. “Party with him or whatever but keep your eyes open. That's all I'm sayin'. Be aware of who he is before he sucks you into his vortex.”

With that advice, she bounces off of the couch and disappears into the crowd, leaving Jared to wonder what in the hell she was even talking about in the first place.

Sure, Jensen's out there puffing and passing with Misha right now, chugging from a seemingly endless cup of beer in between tokes, but he's the first person who has gone out of his way to welcome Jared to their school, to even notice that he sits alone at lunch and needs help making friends. It's not like he's falling in love with the guy or anything. He's just hanging out and meeting new people.

For another twenty minutes, Jared sticks to his place on the couch. It's not because he has to, not because Jensen told him to; he just doesn't have anywhere else to go. What's he going to do? Wander off into the den to watch the basketball game with the guys who aren't feeling up girls in one of the upstairs bedrooms? 

“Hey, you,” Jensen announces when he finally drops onto the couch and smacks his hand onto Jared's thigh, leaving it there as he lets out a deep, sticky sweet breath. “You, my friend, are very attractive. Did you know that?”

Jared just huffs a short laugh. “And you are very drunk,” he responds, paying no attention whatsoever to the way Jensen's hand climbs higher on his leg or the way his nose brushes the edge of Jared's jaw. 

“I might be,” Jensen concedes, lips dangerously close to Jared's ear. “But that doesn't make me blind. And it certainly doesn't make you ugly.” 

Jared's almost sure that Jensen is going to kiss him and he's almost sure that he's going to let it happen. Then he pulls back and laughs, moving his hand from Jared's leg to his arm and then down to his hand. “You need a drink.”

Shaking his head, Jared says, “Nah, man, I'm okay.”

Gripping his chin in one tight hand, Jensen turns Jared's face to his and nods. “You are sitting sober in a corner at a fucking party, man. You're not okay.”

When he puts it like that, Jared can't help feeling like more of a freak than he did before Jensen sat down. He doesn't want to be the weirdo who's scared to have one beer for fear that his parents will know he wasn't at the library. 

Something about what Genevieve said is sticking in the back of his mind, though. He's not going to be the guy who changes who he is because some hot kid in his class shows him a little bit of attention. That's ridiculous.

“I'm fine,” he insists, shifting a little for distance he desperately needs to keep his sanity. His thigh is hot where it's pressed against Jensen's, and Jared is having enough trouble remembering to breathe, let alone how to just say no.

Jensen leans back in, humming against his ear again. “Yes, you are,” he agrees, hand snaking under the hem of Jared's tee shirt to rub at the soft skin on his belly. “You wanna head upstairs? Get to know each other a little better?”

Fuck, yes, Jared wants to go upstairs and get to know Jensen better. So it's probably for the best that some guy Jared doesn't recognize stops in front of the couch and pulls Jensen up by the hand and into a tight hug that lifts Jensen's feet off the ground. 

“Who's your friend, Jensen?” the guy asks.

Jensen blinks a couple of times and then shakes his head, arm draped over this guy's shoulder while he points to Jared. “Aldis, this is Jared. Jared, Aldis Hodge. Aldis, man, isn't Jared fucking hot?”

“Yeah, he's dreamy,” Aldis rolls his eyes. Making his way to his feet, Jared accepts the hand that Aldis offers. “Nice to meet you, man,” Aldis smiles, turning his attention back to Jensen. “You seen Kane? I been lookin' everywhere for him.”

With a nod, Jensen smacks Aldis' chest. “Yes,” he exclaims. “He was watchin' the game in the other room,” he points toward the hall. “Probably still is, if he's not gettin' laid already.”

They laugh together like old friends, like they share a bond that Jared's never really experienced with anyone, and it sends a jolt of something akin to jealousy and longing down Jared's spine. He doesn't know what he was thinking, showing up in this place that he clearly doesn't belong, but he needs to head home before his parents start to suspect he's not actually studying.

“Come on, Jared,” Jensen pulls away from Aldis and hooks an arm around Jared's neck again. “Let's get you a drink and meet some new people.”

“Man, I gotta get goin',” Jared tells him, pulling Jensen's highlighter out of his pocket and holding it out. It's not smooth and Jensen looks like he has no idea what the hell it is so Jared kind of wishes he'd just hung on to it until tomorrow at school. If Jensen even shows up at school; he may be too hungover to bother. “You loaned it to me,” he explains.

Jensen's smile is blinding when he remembers. “At school,” he snaps his fingers as he shoves the highlighter into his back pocket. “Thanks, man. I totally forgot I even gave it to ya.”

It probably shouldn't punch Jared in the gut like it does, but knowing that Jensen just shrugged off the loan bothers him a little. Makes him feel forgettable or something. “Yeah, well, thanks. It was-” He stops and chuckles to himself because, even in his own head, it sounds ridiculous. “It helped.” That doesn't make him sound any better.

Leaning forward, Jensen grabs the back of his neck and kisses him, dry and hard and quick. “Man, I wish you could stay.” He waves at someone over Jared's shoulder and then squeezes his shoulder. “I'm glad you came, though.”

Even though he leaves before Jared can return the sentiment, Jared silently thinks that he's glad he came, too.

 

 

It's Friday afternoon and Jared hasn't seen Jensen since Tuesday night at Danneel's. He tries to keep himself busy and remember that they're not best friends or anything – Jared doesn't even have his phone number – but he'd be lying if he said he's not a little disappointed. Maybe Jensen was just drunk on Tuesday night, but he made Jared feel like he belonged somewhere. That's not an easy feat and it's one that Jared appreciates more than it would be cool to say.

Since the party, Genevieve has been joining him in the courtyard for lunch. Sometimes she brings a friend or two and sometimes she comes alone. It feels a little like charity but it's good to have a friend and Jared's certainly not going to turn it away in favor of sitting alone like a giant loser. 

“Do you have your History take-home test with you?” Genevieve asks around a large bite of Jared's chicken salad sandwich. He doesn't mind sharing; his mom's a good cook and having less to eat at lunch is a small price to pay for having someone to hang out with at lunch.

Jared digs in his backpack and withdraws a folder, flicking his wrist in her direction. “My essays are weak but I know the multiple choice answers are right,” he tells her, eyes flitting around the yard until they fall on Jensen, walking toward them with his ever-present aviators in place.

“You're a lifesaver,” Genevieve says, swallowing hard before launching into her own bag to find her test. Jensen's shadow falls over them and she looks up with a long-suffering smile. “Ackles.”

Jensen barely spares her a glance before he drops to Jared's other side. “So, I'm told I should apologize for mauling you the other night.”

Shaking his head, Jared reaches for his water bottle and takes a long swallow before he says, “No problem, man.” He thinks he maybe sounds too eager but that could also be because Genevieve snorts at his side, her eyes still trained on copying his homework.

“Man, if I made you uncomfortable at all,” Jensen goes on, but Jared just holds up a hand to interrupt him.

“You didn't,” he insists, maybe a little more firmly than he intended. 

Jensen's lip curls into a soft grin and something about it seems knowing even though Jared can't see his eyes. “Well, alright then,” he nods, turning to face Jared. “So what're ya doin' tonight?”

Fuck, Jared wishes that he could sink into the floor. “Um, nothing,” he lies, even though his parents invited that weird couple across the street and their weirder son over for family game night. He wasn't really looking forward to it anyway, so doing something with Jensen seems much better.

“What's wrong, Ackles? All your other cronies get tired of following you around like a puppy?” Genevieve asks, voice teasing and light.

Jensen flips her off and shakes his head. “I can never have too many faithful followers, Cortese,” he flings back with a bright smile. 

When he turns his attention back, Jared shifts a little under his gaze. As much as he's starting to like Jensen's eyes on him, it's a little intense still. “So, what's goin' on tonight?” Jared asks, kicking himself for how small he sounds.

“My friend Chris is playin' at this bar downtown. You should definitely come check it out.”

“To a bar?” Jared wishes he could stop sounding like such a sheltered little kid but honestly, nobody's ever even wanted to get him into a bar. He doesn't have a fake I.D. or anything like that.

Jensen chuckles and ruffles Jared's hair in a way that is not at all helpful to his self esteem at the moment. “Meet me out back at seven thirty. We'll be the roadies. They never card the roadies.” 

Shoving Jensen away, Jared runs a hand over his head to smooth whatever damage he did. “I can definitely do that.” 

He absolutely can’t do that, but Jared likes to believe that, if he wants something enough, the fates will find a way to let him have it. Even in his head, it sounds immature and naïve but Jared doesn’t care. Jensen is one of the coolest guys he’s ever met.

The way he slaps Jared’s back as he leaps up from the ground only solidifies Jared’s opinion. “Awesome. I’ll see ya tonight.”

Jared watches until he’s gone and only remembers that he’s not alone when he hears Genevieve giggling at his side. “What?” he asks, cheeks burning at the implication of her wiggling eyebrows. “Shut up.”

She shakes her head and hands Jared’s test back to him. “I think it’s cute.”

“But I should be careful?” Jared rolls his eyes at the soap opera nature of this conversation. “What? Does Jensen not “do” relationships or something?” he asks, complete with dorky, quotey fingers.

“No, he does,” Genevieve is quick to correct. “Sometimes, I guess.” Her brow furrows as she tries to work through how she wants to say this. “Jensen really is a good guy, Jared. He’s cool with pretty much everybody. It’s just that not everyone can keep up with him, ya know? And sometimes you can lose yourself trying.”

It sounds like she’s speaking from personal experience but the lack of animosity between Genevieve and Jensen says otherwise. Still, it resonates. This idea of trying to run just to keep up with someone who’s already miles ahead of him feels like exactly the same thing Jared’s been doing most of his life. He’s shy, not stupid. Also, Genevieve’s warnings aren't exactly subtle.

“Don’t worry about me.” He throws an arm around her shoulder in a gesture that doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable until he thinks about how new it is for him to actually touch someone before they touch him. Still, he leaves his arm where it is when she leans into his side a little bit instead of pushing him away. “I’m not gonna do anything stupid just because Jensen’s hot, okay?” He tilts his head to rest his cheek on the top of her head. 

She’s quiet for a moment, just sitting in the stillness beside him. “Dammit, he is _smokin’_ hot, though,” she finally says.

And, really, what is Jared supposed to do with that? Disagree?

 

 

By the time second period rolls around on Monday, Jared is wishing he was dead. He tried everything he could think of to get out of that stupid game night on Friday, going as far as to beg his parents to please let him have just one friend – without telling them where he was planning on going with said friend – before they patiently reminded him that they already made plans and he could go out with his friends some other time.

Jensen nodded at him in the hall this morning but Jared couldn’t bring himself to meet his eye. He said he was going to be there and he wasn’t. Jensen has to think he’s the lamest loser in the world.

He jumps a little when Aldis leans against the locker next to Jared’s. “What’s up, Padalecki?” he asks.

It’s probably not cool that Jared feels a surge of pride when Aldis refers to him by his last name. That’s how all of Jensen’s friends talk to each other. “Nothin’,” he finally answers when Aldis cocks his head and watches Jared like he might be a little slow or something. “I’m good,” he adds, thinking that he sounds anything but cool.

Aldis just chuckles and shakes his head like Jared just told the best joke in the world. “Missed you Friday night, man. Ackles said you were gonna be there.”

It takes everything he has not to swallow his own tongue or something equally embarrassing when Aldis pushes off the locker and heads down the hall with him. “Something came up,” he says, his voice weak and hesitant.

Aldis just nods, though, and then shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, man, no big. Shit happens, right? But listen, some guy Jensen’s all hard for wrote this new book and he’s doin’ a signing at Borders this afternoon so we’re gonna go check it out if you wanna come with.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jared answers before he can stop himself. He might look eager but what the hell? He’s actually being invited to do something.

At the doorway of the Physics room, Aldis stops and says, “Jensen's drivin', so just meet us out there at his car after fifth, okay?”

He ducks into the classroom and Jared doesn't even process that their school day has six periods. Hanging out with Jensen and his friends is going to require cutting a class, something Jared has never even thought about doing. He hears Genevieve's voice in the back of his head, _Keep your eyes open_ , but he already flaked on them once. Aldis said they missed him and Jared doesn't want them to notice his absence again. 

 

 

The signing was kind of a bust as far as Jared is concerned but he feels a little better knowing that Jensen is the only one who really wanted to stand in line for the thing. The rest of them – Jared, Aldis, Danneel, Katie, and Misha – had wandered around Borders, ordered coffee, and read each other excerpts from trashy romance novels. Well, the others read and Jared hung back and laughed, hoping they didn’t ask him to take a turn. Hanging out with them is fun, but dramatically reading some bodice ripper in the middle of the bookstore isn’t exactly his thing.

When everyone decided to stop for dinner on the way home, Jared sent his mom a text and told her that he was helping a friend study after school. He didn’t feel guilty about lying until she sent him a response with a little _< 3_ at the end. It’s easy to forget the guilt, though when he’s pressed between Jensen and the wall in this oversized booth, waiting for the waitress to bring their food.

“So what happened to you the other night, Padalecki?” Katie asks, playing with Danneel’s fingers against the table top while her eyes drill into Jared’s, making him shift uncomfortably.

Jensen throws an arm around the back of his booth and tosses a straw wrapper at Katie. “That was three days ago. Let it go already,” he insists, rolling his head to look at Jared’s profile. He’s sitting close enough that Jared can feel Jensen’s breath on his face and Jared’s pretty sure he’s blushing like a little schoolgirl. “He’s here now. That’s what’s important, right?”

It take Jared a second to realize that Jensen is talking to him. When he does catch on, he licks his lips and reaches a shaking hand to his water glass and nods hesitantly. He had a great time with Aldis and Misha earlier, even told a few jokes that made Misha laugh, but now that Jensen’s attention is focused on him, he’s losing it. He’s going to screw this up so royally that he’s already preemptively hating himself for it.

“So, Jared,” Misha jumps in to help, “you went to Central before, right?” 

Jared nods. He should say more, offer more information or something, but he just doesn’t know _what_. What in the world could these awesome people with exciting lives want or need to know about him? He’s boring and lonely and weird. These don’t seem like selling points.

“So, what moved you across town, man?” Aldis asks, smiling at the waitress when she interrupts the conversation to deliver their dinner. 

It takes a few minutes to get everything sorted and squared away, so when Danneel presses, “So why’d you move to North Side, Jay?” Jared had almost forgotten there was a question on the table.

He shrugs and finishes chewing the first of his steaming French fries, washing them down with a large swallow of his coke before he answers. “My dad got a promotion last spring. About the same time, this house he and my mom always wanted to buy went on the market so they decided to go for it,” he explains. 

“There’s a tuition-free option for seniors, ya know?” Katie doesn’t sound snotty when she says it. She sounds like she’s genuinely wondering why Jared didn’t opt to stay at his old school. 

It’s true that the county has a policy wherein any student who has attended the same institution for the duration of his high school career can opt to stay at that school, tuition free, in the event his parents move out of the district but remain in the county. Jared knows it by heart, as many times as his parents read it to him when enrollment came around for this year. 

Telling these people that he didn’t want to stay at Central because he didn’t have any more friends there than he does here isn’t exactly something he can do, so he just eats another fry and shrugs.

Like the godsend that he is, Jensen jumps in with, “I used to date a girl at Central.” He grabs an onion ring from Aldis’ plate and lets it hang off of the end of his tongue until Aldis tries to take it back. Chewing, Jensen leans heavier against Jared’s side and, when he swallows, he adds, “D’you know Joanna Krupa?”

Jared nearly chokes on his burger. “You dated Joanna Krupa?” 

Joanna is to the Central student body what Danneel is to North Side’s. The key differences between them, so far as Jared can tell, are that Joanna is taller, blonder, and louder. It probably makes sense that Jensen dated her.

“I forgot she went to Central,” Misha nods thoughtfully, tapping a French fry against his chin. “What ever happened to fair Joanna?”

When Jensen’s hand finds his knee under the table, Jared almost misses the answer. “Turns out, we weren’t so compatible,” he shrugs, hand sliding further up Jared’s leg. Jensen is somehow managing to look like everything is totally normal above the table. Maybe it is for him, but Jared’s not used to hot guys feeling him up during dinner.

“Aw, poor Jenny. Did you just want different things?” Danneel teases.

Aldis laughs into his hand and then drags his fork through the river of gravy in the top of his mashed potatoes. “More like they wanted the same damn thing,” he smirks.

Jared flushes at the implication, cursing himself for being such a child. Katie and Danneel roll their eyes at the joke, even though Danneel’s the one that brought it up. 

Misha seems to be the only one who thinks on it for a second, and then his eyes widen. “Oh, because you both like a nice, big cock?” he asks just as the waitress comes back to the table.

She gapes for a second and then composes herself. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

The timing is way funnier than the words she’s saying but Jensen is the only one who manages to shake his head and wave her off while all of his friends dissolve into laughter. For the first time in his life, Jared includes himself in that group of Jensen’s friends.

Being as Jensen leaves his hand on Jared’s thigh for the entire hour they’re sitting at the restaurant, he figures maybe Jensen sees it that way, too.

 

 

“I thought you were sick,” Genevieve accuses, dropping next to Jared on the grass during lunch a few weeks later. 

Jared squints up at her from flat on his back, shielding his eyes with his arm. “Overslept,” he shrugs easily. Aldis’ dad took Jared and Jensen to a Monday Night football game in Dallas last night. Seven o’clock came way too early this morning.

“Well, you missed a quiz in Lit,” she states, matter-of-fact and a little cold. 

Reaching into his backpack without opening his eyes, Jared pulls his giant foam finger out of his bag and throws it in the direction of Genevieve’s voice. “I brought you a souvenir.”

Genevieve huffs but she doesn’t give the gift back or anything. “Did you hear what I said?”

“That I missed a quiz. Yeah, I heard ya. Nothin’ I can do about it now, though, is there?” If Jared wasn’t so exhausted, if his head wasn’t pounding against his skull and begging to go back to sleep, he might care that those pop quizzes account for half of his grade for the semester.

“Scoot over,” Jensen demands, all but falling onto Jared’s side. “Mornin’ Cortese,” he greets, handing a pair of aviators like his to Jared before folding his hands behind his head. “You left these in my car.”

For the record, Jared did not buy sunglasses just like Jensen’s in an attempt to be more like him. It was Jensen who suggested Jared try them on at the mall last weekend and Jensen who convinced him to buy them when he said Jared looked too good not to wear them all the time. The fact that he spent more of his savings on them than he’s usually allowed to spend in a month, it’s a damn good thing he looks awesome in them.

He slides his sunglasses over his eyes and goes back to chasing the sleep that’s been alluding him since his alarm went off. Truthfully, it does bother him that he missed a pop quiz in English Lit, but Ms. Ferris doesn’t give make-up tests and there really is nothing he can do about it. He’s learning that it’s kind of pointless to worry about the stuff he can’t change.

“Are you too hungover for me to ask you a question?” Genevieve nudges him with her knee. 

Jared groans and rolls his head toward her though his thigh and elbow stay firmly pressed against Jensen’s. He’s not actually hungover – he’s still holding to some standards – but he’s not going to bother correcting her if that means he has to open his mouth. 

“We’re having a study session at my house tomorrow night. Me and Chad, Gabe, Andy, Sophia,” she starts rattling names that Jared is pretty sure he’s not going to remember in a second. “Pretty sure the midterm that Beaver’s workin’ up for Physics is gonna blow.”

Jared hesitates, eyes cutting to Jensen under his sunglasses but Jensen appears to be out cold. “Um, I don’t know.” He’s not sure how she always manages to make him feel guilty, but Jared’s stomach drops when she nods and refuses to meet his eyes. “Are we doin’ anything tomorrow night?”

“You should go,” Jensen answers, voice rough and sleep-deprived. “Think I’m just gonna sleep for the next week anyway.” 

Disappointed as he is, Jared turns to Genevieve and tries to smile genuinely. “I’ll be there.” The way she grins back tells him that Jensen is on to something; hiding his eyes behind these sunglasses makes it a whole lot easier to feign enthusiasm when he’s just not feeling it.

 

 

Though they don’t all crowd around Jared’s spot under the tree at lunchtime, Danneel and Misha have started hanging out here with Jensen from time to time. Today, Genevieve made some excuse about studying with her friend, Sandy, so Jared’s grateful for the added company. 

“You comin’ tonight, big Jay?” Danneel asks around a potato chip on Wednesday afternoon. She’s the only one who tries, and gets away with, calling him Jay. It’s mostly because she just started doing it; she never bothered with asking.

“Tonight?” Jared asks, gulping a long swig from his water bottle and trying to tell himself that Jensen hasn’t grown very, very rigid at his side. “I’m studyin’ with Genevieve tonight,” he says slowly, afraid to look to his right.

“We’re not doin’ anything tonight either, Danni. Remember?” Jensen asks through clenched teeth, tone scolding and tight.

Danneel’s eyes grow wide and she shakes her head like she’s trying to rid her head of a mistake. “That’s right. I totally forgot. It wasn’t tonight,” she trails off and raises a middle finger to Jensen. “Man, fuck you. If you want me to lie for you, fill me in ahead of time.”

“What’s going on?” Jared asks, feeling naïve and childish like he always does when he doesn’t understand one of the inside jokes that only comes from years of growing up and hanging out together.

Jensen shifts and sits forward, arms resting on his knees. “We’re goin’ up to Chris and Steve’s place to smoke up tonight. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable but I know it’s not your thing so I,” he stammers in a way that Jensen never does and then he rolls his shoulders. “I thought you’d be better off at Genevieve’s.”

Jared’s chest feels like it’s on fire as the humiliation of basically being called a giant wimp who can’t make his own decisions spreads through him. He can feel the heat in his ears and he pushes his aviators higher on his nose to make sure none of them can see the hurt in his eyes. Jensen is probably trying to do the right thing by him, but everyone is watching him now and he knows that they all think he can’t handle it. 

“No, yeah,” he nods his head, feeling every bit like the little kid who’s just been told he can’t hang out in the yard with the cool, older kids on the block. “I should study anyway,” he mumbles, making his way to his feet in a way that is anything but graceful. “I’m actually supposed to make a definite plan with Genevieve so I’m gonna,” he says, shaking his head. Then he stops talking as he walks away.

Hidden away in the privacy of the bathroom, he leans against the sink and tells himself that he's making a far bigger deal out of this than he should. If running away because he's not invited somewhere with his new friends is how he's going to handle a stupid situation then it's no wonder they didn't ask him to go in the first place. Who wants a four-year-old crybaby tagging along anyway?

He's not even as upset about not going with them as he is about Jensen outright lying to him about it. He can tell himself a thousand times, in a thousand ways, that he likes all of the new people Jensen has introduced him to and that he feels like he's a part of the group. But, in the end, Jensen is the one that matters to Jared. He's the one that Jared looks for in the halls and waits for at lunch. 

_I thought you’d be better off at Genevieve’s._

He might as well just give it up now. Jensen may humor him and let him hang out sometimes but Jared's not on his level. At this rate, he never will be.

 

 

Jared's mom is waiting for him when he gets home from school and she doesn't look pleased. She's sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine and running her fingers through her hair. 

“Hey, mom,” he greets, stopping in the doorway.

She looks up and pushes her magazine away, shaking her head with a humored smile. “Take the sunglasses off in the house, JT,” she chides. When he does, she nods toward the chair beside her. “Are you okay, son?” she asks when he sits.

He sucks in a deep breath and wishes he could slide his sunglasses back on. Over the last few days, he's gotten really used to hiding behind them when he doesn't want to be seen. Something tells him that his mom would see through that anyway. She's always had a sixth sense about things like that.

“I don't know,” he tells her honestly, dropping his head back to look at the ceiling like Jensen does when he's only half paying attention. “Just. There's a lot to get used to in a new school, ya know? New people and everything.”

She considers him for a minute and then asks, “And these new people? Jensen and Aldis and the others, they're good friends, you think?”

She knows Aldis' name because his dad had to come in and meet Jared's parents before he was allowed to go to the game with them on Monday. It was embarrassing, but Jensen came in with them and was as awesome with his mom and dad as he is with everyone else.

Of course, that was probably just for show. In fact, that's probably why Jensen thinks Jared can't hang with them now. He's just a momma's boy who can't handle the cool stuff.

With a grimace, he nods and smiles at his mother. She'll see right through it. but Jared can't tell her the truth this time. She'll never understand. “Yeah, they're good.” Standing, he wipes his hands on his jeans and hitches his bag over his shoulder. “Genevieve invited me over to study tonight. Is it okay with you if I go over there? For the Physics midterm?”

“Yeah, it's okay. Just make sure you're home by ten,” she reminds him as he jogs up the stairs.

There was a time when Jared was pretty close to his parents. Having few to no friends and spending all of his time at home kind of lent to that. Even when he came out to them in eighth grade, they were supportive and cool about it. He doesn't even know why it feels like they're suffocating him now, keeping him from growing up like every other kid his age is doing. He just knows that the longer he's here, the more he feels like he has to get away.

 

 

He tries, really fucking tries to have a good time at the study session but his heart's just not into Physics. By the time he announces that he's heading home around nine thirty, nobody seems that upset to see him go.

His mom and dad are waiting up for him when he gets home but they go to bed as soon as they're sure that he's on time and that he had fun. He's not tired and he can't stop thinking about what Jensen is doing right now. Not even a sandwich and two pieces of his mom's apple pie help cheer him up.

As he's on his way to his bedroom, feet dragging slowly over the polished wood in the hall, his phone vibrates against his thigh. Assuming that it's Genevieve texting to see what the hell was wrong with him tonight, Jared is surprised to see a message from Jensen instead.

_Don't fall asleep yet._

It's frustrating, the way he's equally irritated and excited to get a stupid text message from Jensen. The guy has done nothing but string him along since the day they met. Unfortunately, knowing it in his head and feeling it are two totally different things. 

_It's late._

Jared doesn't even feel bad about his stupid, obvious response. His nerves are worn thin and he's just too exhausted to worry anymore.

_Come to IHOP with me._

Frozen in his bedroom doorway, Jared considers the invitation. Jensen is supposed to be at Steve's house with his friends, doing things he doesn't think Jared can. The only way that Jared can maintain his ambivalence is if Jensen maintains his distance and a mid-week, midnight invitation for pancakes is hard to read as distance.

When he doesn't respond, Jensen sends another message.

_Meet me outside. Now would be good._

Pushing the curtains aside, Jared sees Jensen standing across the street, kicking something on the sidewalk with the heel of his shoe. He stumbles a few times, shakes his head, and then tries it again. 

Jared has never tried to sneak out but he's pretty sure that he can jump over his mom's flower bed without much trouble. It's just one time; he'll give Jensen a chance to explain what he's doing here and then he'll slide right back in and never use the window again. 

He only has to tell himself three times before he actually goes through with it.

 

By the time he reaches the street, he has a plan. Unfortunately, it all goes to shit the second Jensen notices him and smiles, lips splitting his face and his eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“My car's around the corner,” he says, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

Jared follows him, hands shoved deep in his pockets, until something occurs to him. “How high are you?” He doesn't want to be a judgmental asshole, but he also doesn't want to die in a car wreck.

With a shake of his head, Jensen nods toward the passenger door and says, “Wasn't feelin' it tonight.”

The drive to IHOP is silent, nothing between them but the low din of Jensen's stereo. Jensen sings along under his breath, but something is different about him tonight; he seems like a calmer, quieter version of himself or something.

Jared can’t seem to stop himself from checking his phone every ten or twelve seconds, just to be sure that his parents haven’t discovered his empty room. In the back of his head, he doesn’t actually believe that he’s going to get away with this night.

“You alright?” Jensen finally asks when they’re situated across a booth from each other, feet barely touching under the table.

With a shrug, Jared slides his phone back into his pocket. “Guess I’m just tired.” 

Face contorting, Jensen says, “Dude, I shoulda thought about the time,” in apology.

Suddenly, it's like they're back on the lawn at the school again, Jensen asserting his belief that Jared just can't keep up with Jensen and his friends. It punches him in the gut, makes him feel about three inches tall. “It's fine,” he waves a hand and leans back in his seat like he does this kind of thing all the time. They both know it's not true, but it's easier to pretend than listen to Jensen write him off as a giant geek.

“So, how was the fair Genevieve tonight?” Jensen asks, wicked smile of implication on his lips, after the waitress has taken their order and headed back to the kitchen.

“Fine, I guess,” Jared answers with a non-committal shrug. He wasn't really paying attention, what with Jensen in every corner of his mind, but he can't actually say that out loud.

Jensen plays with his straw paper, smoothing it before twisting it in his fingers. “You know she's got a thing for you, right?” He's strangely fixated on the paper now, eyes down and narrowed in concentration.

The idea is so absurd that Jared can only laugh. “You're kidding, right? Genevieve's my friend.” _She knows I'm totally hung up on you,_ he itches to say, but keeps it to himself.

When Jensen does look up, it's through these criminally long lashes that nearly shield his eyes all together. He looks nervous for the first time since Jared met him. It's a little weird. “Friends don't always stay that way, Jay,” is all he says, cryptic like he can get away with it because he's cool enough to say vague shit like that.

Almost positive that he's not the one who moves his foot, he feels Jensen's leg against his, warm and heavy, disturbing. “Yeah, well, we're gonna,” is his brilliant response. “She's well aware of that. Trust me.”

Jared doesn't even know why he's speaking in this tone that feels weighted and pointed. It's like he's trying to assure Jensen and maybe drop him a hint at the same time. Jared's not a hint guy. He doesn't flirt, never has. It feels phony and contrived, but Jensen smiles so maybe it's not as bad as he thinks it is.

“I don't know, man.” Jensen's voice is instantly lighter, more teasing, as though he's catching the signals that Jared's sending, even if Jared doesn't know exactly how to send them. “She's pretty hot.”

“Oh, I know,” Jared answers automatically, worried that he might actually fuck this up somehow if he stops to think about what he's saying. “She's just not really,” he says then tops short. 

This has never been an issue. He's never had anyone to talk to about it; either people know or they don't. 

Jensen's boot runs along Jared's shin, his tongue licking the length of his lip in the silence. When he realizes Jared isn't planning on continuing, he baits, “Not really what? Your type?” Jared nods, gulping at the water in his glass until two ice cubes nearly lodge in his throat. “So who is?”

He knows damn well and the fact that he's toying with Jared, teasing and playing like it's some kind of game ... Like he's once again smarter and cooler and better than Jared. Logically, Jared’s brain tells him that it's not a bad thing, that Jensen doesn't mean anything by it. His irrational side, the one that does most of his thinking for him these days, freaks out a little bit.

“I don't know,” he answers dumbly, looking around for the waitress or anyone who might be able to save him from this line of questioning. His ears are burning and he's wishing to hell that he'd just stayed in his room tonight. 

Fumbling for his phone when he realizes that he hasn't checked it in a couple of minutes, he avoids Jensen's eye and pretends that his neck and face aren't flushed. They had a dog when he was younger who liked to believe hiding his head in the snow meant that nobody could see him. Jared's perfectly happy to adopt that theory for the moment.

Thankfully, Jensen lets the conversation drop while they eat, shifting to safer territory like telling Jared about Chris' show this weekend and about this idea Aldis has for throwing a Christmas party at his parents' lake house. Jared tries to maintain eye contact enough to seem interested without ever holding Jensen's gaze long enough to be read or analyzed.

By the time they make it back to the truck, he's starting to think that he dodged a couple of bullets. His parents haven't called or texted and Jensen is his normal, charming self without the undercurrent of seduction that he should be far too young for, yet uses perfectly.

After pulling the truck to a stop in front of the same house he was parked in front of earlier tonight, Jensen lets the truck idle. “Thanks for comin' out with me, Jared.”

Jared nods, unsure of where he's supposed to look or what he's supposed to do. He doesn't know the protocol for this kind of night, hasn't had the experience to tell him what to say to make a graceful exit. “No problem,” he finally says, inwardly smacking himself for sounding so socially stunted. He can't really blame Jensen for treating him like a kid when Jared so often acts like one.

The metal of the door handle is slick under his hand, a little cold from the chill outside. Jensen's hand, wrapping around his other wrist, is warm and firm as he pulls Jared back a little. 

“Tell me about your type,” he says when Jared looks back, bewildered.

The confusion morphs into panic and Jared thinks that maybe this is how deer feel when they're standing in the high beams of someone's headlights. “Uh,” he stammers, licking his lips until they don't feel dry enough to crack. “I don't know. I don't have one.”

“You said Genevieve isn't yours, though. If you don't have one, it doesn't matter.”

“It's not about type,” Jared says before he can stop himself. Great, now he's going to have to explain that. Jensen doesn't press, just raises an eyebrow, but Jared knows that he has to elaborate. “I'm just not. Dammit,” he pounds his flat palm against the window and stares out at his neighborhood. 

This isn't his home, no matter what his parents say. He doesn't know the people who live behind those doors and he doesn't know the name of that dog sitting on that porch over there. He doesn't know the kids who play on that swing set and he doesn't know which house he would run to if there was ever an emergency and his parents weren't home.

He doesn't belong here, not any more than he belonged in the other house on the other side of town. None of it fits; Jared grew too fast or he didn't grow up fast enough. He's the only constant, the only one that doesn't change, no matter where he lands.

Jensen takes pity on him, doesn't make him say the words he's clearly not ready to say. Instead, he slides across the bench seat and wraps a hand around the back of Jared's neck, leaning in to catch Jared's bottom lip between his own. 

While Jared won't readily admit that he's spent any time thinking about his first kiss, this one with Jensen is different than he imagined it would be. Slow and tentative, almost like a plea for permission against his mouth, Jensen's dry lips, a little sticky, and his breath tasting like the pancakes and maple syrup he ate just a few minutes ago.

When he pulls back, Jared runs his tongue along his bottom lip, realizes his eyes are still closed, and blinks a couple of times before he's able to focus on Jensen's smiling face. “That was,” he starts to say before he realizes that he has no idea how to describe it. “Thanks,” he says, immediately wishing he could slam his head against the dashboard.

Jensen snakes a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him forward for another kiss. “I'll see you tomorrow, Jared,” he says, voice gravelly like he's just as affected by the kiss as Jared is.

Stumbling across the street and up the porch steps, Jared is about to open the front door when he remembers that he snuck out his bedroom window earlier. He's too high on the adrenaline of the kiss right now to worry about whether or not his parents will be waiting in his room when he fumbles back through his window again.

They're not.

Jared walks softly down the hall to make sure that they're still asleep, can't help feeling a little guilty that they don't know he left. By the time he falls back on his bed, though, the memory of Jensen's foot against his under the table at IHOP and his lips on Jared's in the truck are strong enough to drown any remorse that might have been swelling.

 

 

Everything in Jared's world feels different on Wednesday morning. He feels different. The only problem is that he doesn't know if Jensen feels different. When he went to sleep, that kiss was the single most important event in his life. This morning, as he walks to school, he's starting to wonder if it was that big of a deal. 

What if Jensen didn't feel anything? What if he does that kind of thing all the time? Jared remembers the way Jensen fell into him at that party at Danneel's, the way he touches his shoulder or his arm or leg whenever they're sitting next to each other. He walks down the halls at school with his arms around Danneel and Katie's shoulders, jumps on Aldis' back in the cafeteria, and smacks Misha's ass every chance he gets. It's entirely possible that he's just openly affectionate and that last night was just his way of saying, _Thanks for sharing pancakes with me_. 

Genevieve is waiting for him at his locker, books hugged to her chest. “You feelin' better?” she asks before Jared can even spin the lock and put his bag away. 

With a shrug, he fights the ball of anxiety growing in his gut. If she'd called him at two o'clock this morning, he would have answered her with a vigorous, probably embarrassingly dreamy nod of his head. Right now, he just wants to hide in a bathroom stall until the final bell rings this afternoon.

“Jared, what's goin' on with you?” she asks, brow furrowing in obvious concern.

He doesn't get a chance to answer before there are arms winding around his waist and hands wandering up his chest, fingers squeezing at his pecs. Jumping a little, he can't help smiling when Jensen whispers against his ear, “Miss me?” and then pulls at his earlobe with his teeth.

Turning, he leans back against the locker and accepts the kiss that Jensen presses to his mouth. It's possible that Genevieve says something, but Jared certainly isn't thinking about her right now. 

“Hi,” he finally says when Jensen pulls back, smile bright enough to eclipse the fluorescent lights overhead. If the burn in his cheeks is indication, Jared's returning the grin and then some.

Jensen leans in, runs a hand through Jared's hair, and then takes a step back to wink at Genevieve. “How's it goin', Cortese?”

With a scowl, she says, “Obviously not as good as it's goin' for you.” Turning on her heel, she tucks her hair behind her ear and schools her features into a bright smile, too bright to be remotely genuine. “I'll see you guys.”

Rumbling a laugh against Jared's ear, Jensen says, “She's jealous,” before he grabs Jared's earlobe with his teeth. 

The swooping, roller coaster feeling in his gut is almost more than Jared can take. He rests his hands on Jensen's waist but it's less about contact and more about staying upright. He was completely unprepared for Jensen to kiss him last night; he's even more thrown by this excessive display of affection. Yesterday, he wasn't cut out to hang with Jensen's friends. Today, Jensen is hanging on him, fucking licking the side of his neck in the middle of the hallway. It's hard to maintain balance when the world is turning on its ear.

“Space, Mr. Ackles,” a stern voice says somewhere over Jensen's shoulder.

The heat rushes to Jared's face as Jensen clears his throat and takes a step back, his hand still firmly resting on Jared's shoulder. “What's wrong, Krip? Too hot for ya?”

Bracing himself to be thrown into detention or possibly suspended for Jensen's big mouth, Jared watches Principal Kripke slow to a stop a few feet away. “Shit,” Jared whispers under his breath, a little proud of the smirk Jensen gives him in response before returning his focus to the principal. 

Shaking his head, Mr. Kripke tucks his hand into his pockets and considers Jensen for a seconds. “Halle Berry is too hot for me, Mr. Ackles. You,” he waves a finger to gesture between Jared and Jensen, “are students and must therefore abide by the conduct policy.”

“I'm goin' to the GSA with this,” Jensen threatens, sincerity bitten back by the amusement in his voice. “Tell 'em our great leader is oppressing our right to express our affection like our heterosexual counterparts.”

Even as he's arguing, Jensen is stepping back far enough that Jared's hand falls from the waistband of Jensen's jeans and swings back toward the locker behind him. If he wasn't still freaking out about getting in trouble, he might actually find this kind of funny.

Mr. Kripke just rolls his eyes. “This _is_ all about equality, son. Your heterosexual counterparts are not allowed to jam their tongues down one another's throats and grind on each other in the hallways, so neither are you.” With a nod in Jared's direction, Mr. Kripke turns on his heel and continues down the hall.

With a laugh, Jensen turns his attention back to Jared. “You busy this weekend?” 

Shaking his head, Jared finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could think of something better to say in response. “No,” is all he manages to come up with, though.

Jensen pulls him away from the locker and slides his hand around Jared's hip, fingers drumming a disjointed beat against Jared's jeans. “I'm thinkin' about havin' some people over. You game?” 

“Yeah, of course!” 

It doesn't occur to him until Jensen has kissed the side of his neck and disappeared around the corner that he might have sounded too eager in his response. 

 

 

By the time he shows up at Jensen’s house on Saturday night, Jared doesn’t know if he’s any more comfortable with Jensen hanging all over him or if his brain has just stammered to a complete stop and is therefore incapable of processing how weird it is. Either way, he’s not complaining. Whatever this is, it’s better than pining and angsting and being alone all the time.

There are three other cars in the large, circular drive when Jared arrives. Like something out of a movie, Jensen’s house is an enormous, two-story estate with perfectly manicured landscaping and giant white pillars. He half-expects a butler to answer the door when he knocks.

Thankfully, it’s just Jensen that throws the massive door open and immediately laughs. “I shoulda warned you,” he says, reaching forward to yank Jared over the threshold by the front of his shirt. “You look freaked. Are you freaked?”

_Freaked_ probably isn't the right word for it, Jared thinks. “Surprised?” he offers as an alternative. 

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, releasing his hold on Jared to tuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

Jensen's eyes drift down to the shiny, polished marble floor and Jared notices that he's not wearing shoes; the tiny, frayed threads along the edges of his jeans are stark white against his rainbow, striped socks. It's probably a stupid thing to fixate on – Jared hasn't spent much time considering the kind of socks Jensen wears – but he's fascinated by the unexpectedness of the information.

“I haven't really figured out a way to tell people my parents are loaded without sounding like the world's biggest asshole, ya know?” Jensen finally breaks the awkward silence with a stilted grin. “So,” he adds, shoulders rising and falling on a heavy sigh. “You want the grand tour? We've got a little time before anybody else shows up.”

“Nobody else is here?”

Jensen shakes his head, pulls one hand out of his pocket and reaches for Jared's wrist. “Just you and me.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, causing Jared to bark a laugh.

“I guess I figured, with the cars out front,” he starts and then stops himself. Of course Jensen's family has more than one car. Look at the size of his house! “Never mind. I'm an idiot,” he chuckles, hoping that it sounds more dismissive than it feels. 

Thumb brushing over the inside of Jared's wrist, Jensen shakes his head. “You're not. It's fine. Come on,” he tugs on Jared's arm until Jared's feet can actually move to follow him. “We'll skip the boring stuff.”

As it turns out, everything except the kitchen falls into the 'boring' category. Jensen does motion vaguely toward a wide staircase leading down to the basement, where everyone will be hanging out tonight, but he doesn't bother showing that off just yet. 

Instead, he jogs upstairs and down the hall, shouldering open the door at the end. “Welcome to my sanctuary,” he says with a flourish of his arm and a sarcastic smirk.

Jared can admit that he's pictured Jensen's room before, but this is not at all what he imagined. 

In the center of the far wall, lit from beneath, is the biggest platform bed Jared has ever seen, made of dark wood and accented with deep burgundy linens, the pillows a contrasting silver. The skylight overhead, nearly as large as the bed, is inlaid with what appears to be colorful, stained glass but that, Jensen explains, is really just painted plexiglass. The walls are lined with bookshelves, crammed to overflowing with more books than Jared has ever seen anywhere outside of a library.

“This is insane,” he mutters, fingers dragging over the spines of several paperbacks he's heard of but never read.

Jensen laughs a little as he lowers himself to the end of the bed. “Yeah, I'm kind of a book hound, I guess.”

“You guess?” Jared turns to him with wide eyes before looking back to the book case, which extends all the way to the ceiling. “How many of 'em have you read?”

With a small shrug, Jensen leans back on his bed, feet crossed at his ankles as he considers Jared with a pointed look. “I don't know. More than half,” he says as though that doesn't mean he's read about ten thousand books. “Some of 'em are text and reference books, though. They're not all novels or whatever.”

Mouth still gaping, Jared steps away from the wall and takes a few steps toward the bed. Jensen has kissed him a lot in the last few days, but he's not entirely sure it's okay to just sit next to him on his bed. Before today, he was nowhere near solving the puzzle that Jensen is, but at least he felt like some of the pieces were falling into place. Now he's fairly certain he doesn't even have the most important ones.

“Come here,” Jensen invites, sitting up straighter on the bed, scooting toward the edge. When Jared finally stops in front of him, Jensen grabs one of the belt loops on his jeans and tugs until Jared tumbles down on top of him. “You don't have to, like, tell anyone about this, okay?”

It's weird, looking in Jensen's eyes and feeling like Jared is actually seeing him. No sunglasses to shield his vulnerable expression; no posturing to hide his fear of Jared's judgment. He always feels this crashing wave of warmth in his chest when Jensen is around. But being invited into his room, being allowed more access than Jensen usually permits, is about a hundred times more intense.

“I don't get you,” Jared says, shifting his body while Jensen tangles their legs together. 

The palm of Jensen's hand is soft against his neck, his thumb tickling the underside of Jared's jaw. “I'm just a guy.” 

Yeah, Jensen's just a guy. A guy who looks like he should be on some television series where the lead actors are too perfect to be real. A guy who walks around _licking_ another guy in the halls at school and still manages not to get the shit beat out of him on a daily basis. Jensen is just a guy who has more money than God, has read books Jared can't even pronounce the titles of, and who would rather drink until he can't see straight than ever talk about any of it.

He doesn't mean to, but he says, “Not just a guy.”

It must be the right thing because, the next thing Jared knows, Jensen is leaning forward, pulling Jared in, kissing him slow and lazy like they have all the time in the world to explore each other's mouths. 

He hasn't bothered telling Jensen that he's never done this with anyone else – he doesn't need to sound any more inexperienced than he already does – but Jensen doesn't ask, so Jared figures he's doing alright with the kissing. It's hard to worry about it when Jensen's tongue is sliding against his, licking against the roof of his mouth before his teeth pull at Jared's bottom lip. 

Jensen gives a little growl as he pulls away causing Jared to groan in protest. “I've gotta get shit set up downstairs,” Jensen whispers against his mouth.

Eyes drifting open, Jared can feel his cheeks flush when he realizes Jensen is right here, staring at him with equally hazy eyes. “Let 'em set their own shit up,” Jared finally says, pressing his lips together to savor the taste of Jensen on them for just a second.

Chuckling as he sits with a labored 'oomph,' Jensen casts a glance over his shoulder, barely settling on Jared before he looks back toward the door. “You have no idea how much I'd like to stay in here with you.” He pushes off of the bed and runs his hands over his thighs. “But that's just gonna lead to somethin' you're not ready for yet.”

Even though he follows, Jared can't stop the words from rolling over and over in his head. Maybe he's not ready for much more than making out, but Jensen can't possibly know that. They've never talked about it so, the only thing Jared can figure is that maybe he's sending some signals he's not aware of or something. 

The alternative, that Jensen still thinks he's too slow to keep up with the rest of their friends, is too stressful and depressing to consider.

 

 

“Dude, I will beat you with this stick if you don't make up your damn mind in the next three seconds,” Katie threatens from her place at the head of the pool table.

Aldis, bent over the side of the table to consider his next shot, just shoots her a side look and shakes his head. “Danni, your woman's runnin' her mouth again.”

Danneel laughs and turns to look at both of them over the back of the couch. “Your trash talkin' skills suck, Aldis,” she teases, flopping back around. “Jay, can you grab me a beer on your way back?” 

Stuffing the twenty bucks he just earned from schooling Misha in a rousing game of Madden on the other side of the room, Jared grabs a couple of beer bottles from the refrigerator and hands one of them to Danneel before settling into Jensen's side at the other end of the couch. 

“That for me?” Jensen asks, nodding toward the bottle in Jared's hand.

Twisting the cap, Jared tosses it in Jensen's direction. “Sure,” he laughs when Jensen bats the cap away and narrows his eyes. 

Jared's been feeling loose and relaxed all night, like these are his actual friends, like they're not just humoring Jensen's little plaything. As soon as Jensen reaches for the bottle in his hand, though, his stomach drops.

Leaning forward until their foreheads touch, Jensen whispers, “You don't have to,” against Jared's mouth, punctuating the statement with a kiss.

“What if I want to?” Jared counters, kissing Jensen again just because it feels good to be allowed to kiss Jensen whenever he wants.

“It's alright that it's not your thing,” Jensen assures him.

Jared jerks away abruptly, standing and setting his beer bottle on the table. If he doesn't get out of here, he's going to say something he regrets. “I gotta go to the bathroom,” he announces to no one in particular before heading for the stairs. 

If he's lucky, Aldis and Katie will be too engrossed in their game to notice his exit. Misha's out on the back porch with Steve and a couple of other guys Jared doesn't recognize. Danneel probably thinks he's being melodramatic, but Danneel has a secret girlfriend that she doesn't want the student body to know about unless they're too drunk to remember the next morning, so she doesn't count. It's the best rationalization Jared can come up with as he stumbles into the kitchen and leans heavily against the counter.

This time, leaving the room isn’t about being embarrassed; there's a good chance no one heard their discussion at all. This time, he's so angry his hands are shaking, his pride aching against his ribs.

“What the hell is goin' on with you?” Jensen demands, entering the kitchen with his arms stretched wide.

Jared looks up, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. If he turns around, he might swing. That's not going to help anything. “Why don't you tell me?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, Jensen,” Jared fires, spinning and clenching his hands into fists at his sides. “You've already decided that smokin' up isn't my thing, I'm not ready for sex, and I don't actually wanna have a beer with Danneel tonight. Don't tell me you don't know what's goin' on with me, too. You clearly know me better than I know myself.”

“Hey,” Jensen raises his hands defensively, taking a step forward as he speaks. “Couple months ago, you were stayin' home on Saturday nights. Now you're partyin' with me and my friends and that's awesome. I want you here. I love when you're here. But I don't want you changin' who you are because you think that's what I want you to be. I want you to be you, Jared.”

Shaking his head, Jared laughs incredulously. “I can barely talk when you're around,” he points out. “How the hell can you possibly know who I am? _I_ barely know who I am, Jensen.” With another disbelieving shake of his head, he adds, “Contrary to what everyone else in your world may tell you, it's not always about impressing you, okay?”

If Jensen presses him for an explanation on that, Jared's not entirely sure he'll be able to give one. He's kind of shouting without thinking at this point, but it does feel surprisingly refreshing to get something off of his chest for once instead of holding on to it until he feels like a part of him just implodes.

For a long time, Jensen is quiet, mouth gaping like he can't even believe this is happening. Then he's advancing on Jared in long strides, backing him up to the counter and grabbing the back of his head in a firm fist to smash their mouths together, hips rolling forward as if on instinct. 

When he pulls back, just enough space between them for Jared to catch a ragged breath, Jensen whispers, “Sorry,” against his lips and then kisses him again, softer this time. “You're right and I'm sorry.”

Jared's not entirely sure if Jensen actually agrees with him or if he's just in shock from someone actually talking back to him. He figures it doesn't really matter, not when Jensen is kissing him again, hands sneaking up the back of Jared's t-shirt.

It feels good. No, it feels amazing to have Jensen on him like this, desperate and as needy as Jared always feels when Jensen is around. Still, there's a bunch of people downstairs and Jared's not sure this is how he wants his first sexual experience to go down. Having Jensen's hands or mouth around his dick will be awesome eventually, but not if it's interrupted by one of their friends charging in to find more snacks.

“We should get back down there,” he finally says, the words painful as Jensen runs his tongue down the column of Jared's throat. 

Nodding, Jensen steps back and runs a hand over the top of his head. “Yeah,” he nods again, panting a few times before he manages to catch his breath. Then, with a smirk, he grabs Jared's hand and says, “Come on. We'll share that beer and make out until Aldis throws a pool stick at us.”

In the back of his head, Jared can hear Genevieve's voice: _Party with him or whatever but keep your eyes open._

Jensen takes the first drink from the bottle, smiling around it before he tips it to Jared's lips with a small laugh. Jared's keeping his eyes open alright, and he's loving the view.

 

 

Having friends isn't the kind of thing that most kids probably find strange in high school. For Jared, eating lunch with one group and studying with another in his room after school is just weird. He's getting more used to it with each passing day, but he can't help wondering if it's ever going to feel normal.

Right now, Genevieve is stretched out on her stomach in the middle of his bed, tapping her pen against her notebook, staring at the window Jared's been using to sneak in and out of during the last few weeks. He's pretty sure that Jensen is wrong about her being jealous, but he hasn't found a great way to ask and it doesn't really seem important enough to make a big deal out of it. She's still comes around more often than not and she seems to be okay with the fact that Jensen is around more than he used to be.

“Did you get your Physics midterm back yet?” Genevieve asks, attention snapping back to Jared, who is standing in front of his closet, willing something suitable to leap out at him. 

With a distracted shake of his head, Jared mumbles, “Nah,” and reaches for a hoodie that looks dull, boring, like everything else he owns at the moment. 

There's a rustling on the bed as Genevieve shifts, a soft grunt when she manages to tilt herself upright. “Bull shit. I know Beaver handed all the tests back today. What'd you get?” When Jared just shrugs, she sighs. “Dude, if you'd paid attention at our study session -”

“Physics isn't my thing,” he interrupts, turning with the hoodie in his hand to see her eyes narrowing in his direction. “What? You really think one study session was going to make the difference?”

“The rest of us did alright,” she says, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as soon as the words are out of her mouth. “I'm sorry.”

The awkward tension that he's been trying to ignore between them feels like it's growing fingers and threatening to choke him. “Jensen thinks you're jealous,” he says, almost as surprised at the words as she appears to be. “You're not, are you?” When she flushes, Jared wishes he had just kept his mouth shut.

“Of you and Jensen? Not really,” Genevieve finally answers after what feels like an eternity of silence. “I mean, I'm not jealous that he got with you or whatever. I do understand what gay is, ya know?” Scooting forward on the bed, moving closer toward Jared, she says, “I do worry about you losing yourself in him, but I know that's none of my business.”

She keeps saying things like 'don't forget who you are' and 'don't let him take you over' but Jared still doesn't know exactly what that means or why she's so adamant about repeating it. 

Tossing his sweatshirt onto the bed, Jared plunks down at Genevieve's side and leans against his headboard, shifting his body to face her. “I don't know what you're talking about.” 

Genevieve rolls her eyes and turns toward him. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and takes a deep breath, like she doesn't quite know where to start. “Look, Jensen is one of those guys who just has it made, ya know? I'm not saying he doesn't have problems or whatever. I'm sure he does, but they're not, like, normal people problems. He's dirty hot and filthy rich, not to mention crazy smart. He can do whatever he wants because he doesn't have to face the same consequences the rest of us do when we fuck something up.”

“So you _are_ jealous,” Jared deduces. He's not really sure what other reason there is in pointing out all of these things Jared already knows.

Shaking her head, Genevieve tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and licks her lips before she speaks. “There's this guy, okay? His name's Mike and he used to hang with Jensen and his crew. Mike was awesome. Hilarious, really chill, just the kind of guy that everybody wanted to be around, ya know? So, he was super-tight with Jensen and his crew for a couple of years, I guess. All the shit that goes along with being one of Jensen's friends – the cutting class, the partying any day of the week, drinking and getting high – he was into it, right? Next thing ya know, he's dropping out of school and his parents are sending him to some rehab program.”

“Gen, I don't mean to sound cold or whatever, but that doesn't sound like Jensen's fault.” Maybe Jared is playing devil's advocate, but this cautionary tale feels like grasping at straws. “I've never seen him force anyone to do anything they don't wanna do.” It's just the opposite, actually. Jensen has gone out of his way to make sure that Jared _doesn't_ do something that he might not be completely comfortable doing. For some reason, Jared doesn't say that, though.

She shakes her head. “No, I know. It's just, they all act like it's no big deal, ya know? This one time, I asked Katie how Mike was doing and she just shrugged and said she didn't know. Like he didn't even mean anything anymore.” She sighs, her hands folding over her arms like she's trying protect herself from something, possibly from Jared. “It's like they're only looking out for themselves and if you trip, if you can't make it on your own, then it's your own damn problem, ya know?”

For a long time, they sit in silence, Jared contemplating Genevieve's words. It's hard to see the correlation, though, because he's not becoming an alcoholic or thinking about dropping out of school. Sure, they skip a few classes here and there and he failed his Physics midterm, but that's not Jensen's fault. Who's to say he wouldn't have done all of those things before now if he'd been given the opportunity? Maybe this is the guy he's always been; he's just been looking for a chance to break out and be himself.

His eyes slide to the bedside table. It's seven forty-five and his parents are out until later. If Genevieve leaves by eight, like she usually does, he's got plenty of time to head out to the park with Jensen for a few hours before curfew. It's probably not what he should be thinking about right now, but it's rare that he thinks of anything but spending time with Jensen these days.

“Look, Jared, I'd like to think that we're friends, right? I may not be in your circle or whatever, but I do like hanging out with you and I care about what happens to you,” Genevieve finally says after an awkward silence. “I hope your other friends can say the same thing. That's all.”

She gathers her books and drops a kiss on his cheek before she heads to the door. A small part of Jared thinks maybe he should ask her to stay, but he knows that he won't actually do it. Not when he has other options tonight.

Before she leaves, she turns and points to the blue sweatshirt at his side. “Wear your brown tee shirt under that. It makes your eyes pop.”

He doesn't get a chance to thank her for the advice before she's gone. It's probably for the best; he's not sure which advice he'd be thanking her for right now.

 

 

“This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth,” Jared exclaims with a laugh before wrapping his lips back around the silkiest ball of marshmallow chocolate ice cream he's ever tasted. 

After the words are out, when Jensen's mouth quirks into that smirk of his, Jared realizes what he's said. Jared knows that he's blushing but he's grateful that Jensen doesn't call him on his naïve faux pas. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tries to laugh it off, but the sound gets stuck in his throat. Jensen is still smiling at him, still staring at his mouth, still leaning back in the bed of his truck. His legs are splayed, his elbows back to prop him up and the moon plays off his face in dim light and deep shadows that almost make him look dangerous.

Jared won't say it, but right now, Jensen is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“Lemme try it,” Jensen says, lazily extending one arm until he can catch Jared's wrist. 

He half-sits and half-pulls Jared down toward him until Jared loses his balance. It's nice to be smashed up against Jensen's chest, but losing his ice cream over the edge of the bed while flailing kind of sucks. 

“I dropped it,” he cringes, struggling to sit.

Jensen just pulls him back down and buries one hand in the back of his hair. “You still got some,” he grins, lifting his head to run his tongue along the corner of Jared's mouth, “right there.”

It's ridiculous how fast he gets hard when Jensen slips his other hand around Jared's waist and rolls him onto his back. He grinds against Jared's thigh as he kisses him, growling a little when he bites down on Jared's lower lip and tugs it playfully. 

This is it. Jared doesn't even care that they're in the middle of the city park, parked too close to a street light. He doesn't care that anyone could drive by and see them like this. He just knows that he needs more of Jensen. 

At least, he thinks it doesn't matter until his hand is on the button of Jensen's jeans, Jensen sucking on the corner of his jaw while he begs Jared to _hurry up, wanna feel those giant hands_. A blinding white light stabs Jared's eyes, causing Jensen to jerk away and bite a curse under his breath.

“Jensen Ackles,” the uniformed officer smirks, shifting his flashlight to the bed of the truck. 

Jared's pretty sure the flush in his cheeks is enough to illuminate the entire park at the moment.

Shoulders relaxing, Jensen leans against Jared's side and salutes the officer. “Tommy. How you been?”

Apparently, Tommy - _It's Officer Welling now, Ackles_ \- and Jensen go way back. They bicker and tease each other while Jared tries like hell not to remember Genevieve's words from the other day in his room. 

_He can do whatever he wants because he doesn't have to face the same consequences the rest of us do when we fuck something up._

She's right, dammit. Being caught with his hand down anyone else's pants would certainly not end in a sarcastic reminder that the city's curfew for minors is midnight. 

It's not Jensen's fault – Jared's never heard him ask for any kind of special treatment from anyone – but he's willing to take full advantage of whatever is offered to him. Jared's still not convinced that's a bad thing, though.

Jensen is happy. He loves his friends and his life. What's so wrong with that?

“I should get you home,” Jensen says when they leave the park. “Didn't realize it was getting so late.”

Jared wants to protest, but his yawn interrupts his words, causing them both to laugh. “Yeah, I guess.” 

The rest of the drive to Jared's is quiet; it usually is when the night is winding to a close. Jensen sings along with the radio, his thumb tracing random patterns against Jared's hand on the console between them. 

He doesn't really know how to tell Jensen without sounding like a freak, but these quiet moments in the cab of Jensen's truck on the drive home are his favorite part of their midnight dates. Nothing between them but simple touches, shared smiles, and silence, Jared feels like he has a part of Jensen that nobody else gets. Like Jensen doesn't feel the need to be the It Guy or whatever version of him other people expect. Like he trusts Jared with his stillness.

By the time they pull up to the curb across the street from Jared's house, Jensen's foot is tapping against the floorboard and his hand is squeezing Jared's and releasing it in a nervous pattern. 

“You okay?” Jared asks, brow knitting in concern.

Jensen huffs a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry about Tommy back there,” Jensen finally says, his voice small and quiet. 

When Jensen gets shy, it always throws Jared off a little; it goes against everything he’s come to know of Jensen. “It's fine,” he shrugs, because the last thing he wants to talk about is the sex that didn't happen less than an hour ago.

“Maybe for you,” Jensen snorts. “I was lookin' forward to finally gettin' your dick outta your pants.”

Hand on the door handle, Jared rolls his eyes and tries to play off the heat he can feel rising in his neck. “Maybe this weekend,” he says, hoping he sounds more flirtatious than awkward. He'd like to think he's getting the hang of it, but sometimes he still feels like a complete tool when he tries to flirt with Jensen.

Nodding, Jensen catches his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah?” When Jared shrugs in response, Jensen's smile splits wide open, his entire face lighting up. “Think that can be arranged.” He lunges over the center console to kiss Jared, hard and dirty, before he lets him push the door open. “I'll see ya in a few hours.”

After a couple of months of this, sneaking in through his bedroom window is almost as easy as trying the front door. He likes to think that his parents know he's doing it – it makes him feel less guilty if he tells himself they just don't care – but he's still careful. Sometimes these are the only times in a week that he gets Jensen alone; he's not doing anything to jeopardize that if he can help it.

 

 

“Mom, I -”

“There is nothing to say,” his mother cuts him off, her knuckles white as she squeezes the steering wheel and stares straight through the windshield, her jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the road. 

Jared isn't sure he's ever seen his mom so furious, especially not at him. It's freaking him out more than the angry, throbbing bruise on his jaw. 

It also kind of freaks him out that she doesn't start in on him as soon as they get home. First, she takes the ice pack he got from the school nurse and tosses it into the sink. Then, she throws a bag of frozen peas at him. After that, she looks out the kitchen window and takes a deep breath before dialing the phone and waiting.

Jared knows exactly who she's calling but his stomach still drops when he hears her say, “I just picked Jared up from school … Oh, he's not sick. Suspended for three days … Fighting … He's fine … Okay.” When she turns her attention back to him, her eyes are dull. She points in the general direction of the hall. “Go to your room. We'll be up there when your dad gets home.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he complies without hesitation, head down like a whipped puppy when he heads down the hall to his bedroom.

Lying on his bed, he fishes his phone from his pocket and fires off a quick text. _u ok?_

Jensen's response is immediate. _hand hurts. u?_

_face hurts more._

_if it helps, I think the bruise is sexy._

It sure as hell doesn't feel sexy, but Jensen's words make Jared smile enough that it hurts his already aching face. Punching the call button, he rolls away from the door and cradles the phone next to his good cheek, smashing it to his face against the pillow. 

“Hey there, Golden Gloves,” Jensen's smooth voice greets him.

“I've been sent to my room until my dad gets home,” he whispers, listening carefully for his mom's footsteps. The last thing he needs is to have his phone taken away right now. 

Jensen curses under his breath. “Dude, it's not even your fault.” With a heavy sigh, he adds, “You're almost eighteen. What, are they gonna spank you like a five-year-old, too?”

Jared doesn't admit that he has no idea what's going to happen to him because he's never gotten into trouble like this. An all-out fist fight on the quad isn't exactly the same as talking back to his mother when he's in a bad mood. 

When he doesn't respond to Jensen's question, Jensen goes on. “Just tell 'em you were defending yourself. And me. You were doin' the right thing.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jared thinks about the fight. It only comes in flashes: an asshole in the hallway calling them dirty fags as they passed, hand in hand, on their way to lunch. The same fuckwad interrupting their conversation with Danneel and her friend, Hilarie. The snap of the little bit of cool Jared had when the guy wouldn't take the hint. The smell of dirt when Jared tackled him to the ground and the feeling of hands on his back as one of guy's friends stepped in to help. 

From there, it's all punches and growls, and screams from the crowd that gathered. By the time Mr. Beaver and Mr. Pellegrino broke up the fight, Jared's lip was bleeding, his knuckles were swollen, and he was convinced his jaw was broken. Jensen's face was untouched, but he was holding his ribs and favoring his right hand severely.

“Jared, you stood up for yourself. They can't blame you for that.” Jensen's voice pitches low when he adds, “I mean, even if they do, what's the worst they can do to you?” His chuckles send a jolt of heat all the way to Jared's toes. 

Jensen's right. Jared knows that he's right. They can ground him, but they can't stop his window exits. He'll still be able to see Jensen at school, too. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes squeezing shut to cut off the tears he can feel pricking the backs of his eyelids. 

It's not the end of the world, but he's not used to being in trouble with anyone, especially his parents. As annoyed as he gets with them at times, he still hates the thought of disappointing or hurting them. Even Jensen can't change that.

He hears his dad slam the front door, knows that he's as pissed as his mom was earlier, so he rolls onto his back and takes a deep breath. “Dad's home,” he says into the phone. “Are we goin' out tonight?”

With a soft chuckle that makes Jared think maybe everything's going to be alright after all, Jensen says, “Yeah. I'll pick ya up at midnight.”

 

 

In the end, Jared is grounded for a month. There was a short lecture before that, but Jared tuned most of it out when he realized they weren't asking for his input. He always thought his parents had his back – they always said they supported him – but when it came down to it tonight, they just wanted to make sure he knew he fucked up and sent him to his room. 

By the time midnight rolls around, he just wants to climb into the cab of Jensen's truck and be with someone who doesn't find him a colossal disappointment. He knows that Jensen will tell him again that he did the right thing today and Jensen won't care about whether or not this tarnishes Jared's otherwise spotless high school record.

He's got one leg out the window, heart hammering in his chest with anticipation since Jensen texted a second ago to let Jared know that he's waiting across the street, when there's a knock at the bedroom door. He can't pull himself back before his mother sticks her head in the door, her words cut off by the shocked expression on her face.

“What are you-” 

Swallowing hard at the bile that rises in his throat, Jared straddles the window ledge, his mind racing to come up with a suitable explanation for why he's fully dressed and sneaking out in the middle of the night. She may be a little naïve, but she's not stupid. Nothing he says is going to cover it up.

“I'm going to get your father,” is all she finally says when she collects herself.

A giant part of him wants to bolt, to just make a break for it and ask Jensen to drive until his parents can't ever find him. The smaller, rational part knows that's ridiculous. 

Pulling himself back into the room, he texts Jensen. _Busted._

He's checking the reply when his parents come back into the room. _Need help?_ Jared has to smile because he needs more help than Jensen can give him at this moment. 

“Jared,” his father starts.

Holding up a finger, he shoots back, _I got it_ , and tucks his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. It's not hard to muster an apologetic look when he sees his parents' stricken faces. “Sorry,” he whispers under his breath, wondering what he's supposed to do now. 

“Give me the phone, son,” his dad instructs.

Jared's shoulders stiffen, but he does as he's told. His breath catches in his chest when his dad scrolls through the menu. He could be reading any number of sappy, borderline dirty text messages from Jensen. Jared's parents know he's gay; he doesn't think they need to see it firsthand, though.

“Have a seat, Jared,” his mother motions toward the bed, waiting for him to comply before she wraps her arms around her fuzzy, pink robe and lets out a labored sigh. “Sweetheart, what is going on with you?”

Shrugging, Jared tries to find the words but he just doesn't know what to say. He never knows the right words at the right time.

“We thought that letting you try a new school for your senior year would help, that maybe you would make some friends and come out of your shell a little bit.” His dad shakes his head and drops Jared's phone onto his nightstand. “You failed two midterms, you're sneaking out in the middle of the night, getting into fights. This isn't you.”

He wants to ask them how they know that. Everyone else seems to have this sharply defined idea of who Jared is these days. He'd give anything to know where their confidence comes from because he sure as hell can't figure it out for himself.

He doesn't know if he's the shy kid who still sits quietly in the corner of a classroom and prays that the teacher doesn't call on him. He might be the kid who sneaks out of the house and parties with his boyfriend on weekends while his parents think he's studying at the library. Maybe he's some combination of the two, but he's starting to wonder if that's even possible.

“Honey, I know that it's hard,” his mom says, voice dripping sympathy she can't possibly feel. Sinking to the bed at his side, she slides a hand around his shoulders. “You're in a new school, with new curriculum. You're making new friends. You're falling in love.”

Jared's shoulders stiffen at that. He probably is, but he doesn't want Jensen to factor into this conversation. “It's not his fault,” he says automatically.

“Well, you certainly didn't start sliding downhill before he came along,” his father interjects, drawing a harsh look from Jared's mother. “No, I'm tired of tip-toeing around this subject with him. You know we liked Jensen when we met him and I'm sure he's still a great kid, but that doesn't negate the fact that being with him, in whatever capacity, is changing who you are.”

“Into something you don't approve of,” Jared accuses, more surprised than his parents that the words just popped out of his mouth. He wasn't going to say anything, had nothing to say, until they brought Jensen into it. Now he's apparently incapable of keeping his mouth shut. “That's the problem, isn't it? Because you wanted me to be different, wanted me to have more friends and go out more, to be happier and more well-adjusted or whatever. It's just a problem now because you don't like the way I'm doing it.”

The words, slipping between his lips like oozing vitriol, feel childish and immature. It’s as if he's one step away from stomping his foot and pouting like a little kid. If he knew some other way to say it, he would, but whatever comes out is going to have to do for the moment.

“Did you stop to think about why we don’t like the way you’re doing it?” his mother reasons back with him. “It’s not about ruining your fun. We want you to have fun, Jared. Of course we do. But you’re failing tests. Now you’re getting into fights and sneaking out of the house? Yeah, son, we disapprove of that!”

“Would you let me go out at midnight if I asked first?” It’s not the first thing that darts through his head, but it’s definitely the safest of the questions.

His father grunts, shakes his head even though the answer is rhetorical. “Ya know, son, we really did hope that you would find friends at North Side. We thought maybe it would help get you ready for all the new people you're gonna be meetin' in Austin next fall. We just,” he stops short and rests his hand on Jared's mom's shoulder. “It's too late for this now. You get some sleep and your mother and I will let you know how we're going to deal with this in the morning.”

There really is nothing Jared hates more in the world than that kicked puppy look on his parents' faces. His older brother used to party too hard and get in trouble at school sometimes, and Jared never wanted to piss them off like that. He never wanted to be on the receiving end when his dad shakes his head and his mom covers her mouth like they're at the end of their rope and they just don't know where they went wrong or what to do to fix it.

Once they're gone, Jared rolls onto his side and grabs his phone. 

_On lockdown until further notice._

Jensen's reply helps him fall asleep with a smile on his face. _No worries. We'll get through it._

 

When Jensen doesn't show up at school on Friday, Aldis assures him that it's probably nothing and that he shouldn't worry; sometimes Jensen just skips because he's tired or he doesn't feel like showing up. It's not a big deal. The fact that he's not answering any text messages and all of Jared's calls go straight to Jensen's voicemail isn't, either, according to Danneel. Apparently, Jensen loses his phone three or four times a year. She says she's sure Jared will be the first one he calls as soon as he finds it again.

By Sunday night, Jensen still hasn't called and Jared worries that maybe Genevieve was right. 

_It's like they're only looking out for themselves and if you trip, if you can't make it on your own, then it's your own damn problem, ya know?_

 

 

Jensen's back at school on Monday. The first time Jared sees him, though, is after third period. He's got an arm around Misha's shoulder and he's laughing at something Katie is telling him, like nothing is wrong in his world at all. Jared can't decide if he'd rather throw his arms around him and never let go or punch him in the jaw. 

When he turns and gives Jared a giant grin without taking so much as a step toward him, Jared thinks maybe punching is the way to go. 

“Hey, Padalecki,” Jensen greets, pointing a finger at him with the arm still around Misha's shoulder. “How's it goin'?”

Just like that. Just like he talks to everyone else, Jensen is addressing him as though Jared is just any other guy in their class, as though they've never been anything more than friendly acquaintances. It's almost as though he's using Misha as a shield.

Jared's chest feels like it's going to collapse and he wishes that he could just go back to bed and start this day over. Nobody else is talking, the tension stretching tight and settling heavy around and between them. Jared should probably just walk away, but his feet are frozen in place.

“Come on, J. Pad,” Aldis finally says, stepping around Jensen and Misha to wrap an arm over Jared's shoulders. “We gotta get to Trig, my friend.” 

They walk in silence. Well, Jared is silent; Aldis is chattering about the party at Danneel's that Jared had to miss and the football game he played with his brother and uncles on Sunday. He's pointedly ignoring any mention of Jensen and it only makes Jared feel worse about the whole situation.

Finding his seat near the back of the room, Jared slumps low and just prays that Ms. Smith doesn't call on him. He was supposed to spend his weekend catching up on homework, but he was too busy thinking about the train wreck that his life has become to worry about actually doing the equations she assigned.

Jared is staring at his open textbook, giving no illusion of paying attention, when a folded scrap of paper lands in front of him. He raises an eyebrow toward Aldis, but he's flipping the back of Alona's blond hair with the end of his pencil, winking when she turns to giggle over her shoulder in his direction.

_You should check your phone for calls from last Friday morning._

Jared waits until the bell signals the end of the class period before making his way to the bathroom. Aldis doesn't try to stop him.

His hands are shaking when he flips his phone open. Somehow, he already knows what he's going to find. He just doesn't know what he's going to do about it.

 

 

“Was it my mom or dad?” Jared asks, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the side of Jensen's truck after school.

Slowing to a stop, Jensen sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. He doesn't quite meet Jared's eye when he says, “You didn't tell me you failed two of your midterms.”

“You never asked.”

“Jared,” Jensen starts, tugging on the strap of his messenger bag, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Your folks are just lookin' out for you, okay? And they're probably right. If you're not actin' like yourself lately, it's probably because of me. It's just. I think it's better if we just cool it for awhile, ya know?”

Shaking his head, Jared pushes off the door of the truck and balls his hands into fists at his sides. He's hurt, but he's more angry. It's easy for people to think he's some kind of doormat because he's quiet and he keeps to himself, but he has a breaking point. Jensen just keeps pushing him closer to it all the time. 

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath as he walks by, making sure to push Jensen's shoulder with his own as he passes.

Jensen grabs his wrist, tugging when Jared's arm is extended as far as he can get without breaking contact. “Hey,” he says, pausing as though he's waiting for Jared to say something. 

“Look, if you don't wanna be with me, it's fine. I'll get over it. Just lemme go.” 

He tries to yank his arm back, but Jensen is strong and he's not ready to let Jared go just yet. “Look at me.”

Everything inside of Jared wants to do just that. Hell, everything outside of him wants to look at Jensen, to take him in and memorize every last detail. But if he does that, Jensen is going to see how much this is tearing Jared apart, how not fine it really is, and Jared's not sure he can handle that.

“Jared, come on.”

It's the broken, pleading tone in Jensen's voice that finally draws Jared's eyes from the ground between them. 

“I meant what I said. We're gonna get through this,” Jensen assures him. “Just, let's give it some time, okay? You do your thing, get your grades back on track and show your parents that you're still their golden boy. I'll do my thing. Then we'll see what happens, alright?”

“No, not alright,” Jared insists, taking advantage of Jensen's surprise to free himself from the hold. “Ya know what? I'm sick of this bull shit. I wasn't happy before I met you and I'm not fucking happy now. Everything in between was awesome, but that doesn't seem to be enough for anybody, so just,” he huffs, blinks back the angry tears that are threatening to fall, and rakes his hands through his hair before throwing his arms out in defeat. “Fuck all of y'all,” he finishes, spinning on his heel and stalking toward the road. 

He's already missed his bus and he's going to have to walk the mile and a half to his house, but Jared just doesn't care anymore. He's not going to sit at home and wonder what Jensen's doing out there, how drunk he's getting, who he's making out with and what party, and then magically pretend like everything's cool in a couple of months when his parents decide to loosen the leash. 

He doesn't realize how short of breath he is until he's three blocks away from the school, doesn't notice the strain in his muscles or the sweat that's breaking out around his collar and hairline. He's in shape enough to walk three blocks quickly and not feel like he's just run a marathon. But his heart is racing and he has to stop long enough to collect himself before he can go on.

His entire life has been about keeping his emotions in check, trying so hard to follow the rules and not cause any waves. All Jared has ever wanted is to make sure that nobody notices him; they can't pick on or ridicule someone they don't even see. He has plenty of thoughts and opinions, but he's always convinced himself that they don't matter enough to voice them.

And then Jensen walked in and blew the lock off of Jared's cage. Everything he kept pushing down, the risks he'd always been too scared to take and the words he'd been too afraid to say started clawing their way to the surface. Somewhere along the way, without some grand epiphany or flashing neon sign, Jared started to let himself out. He's not sure when it happened – he can't remember an exact moment when it clicked – but somewhere along the way, Jensen became the safe place for Jared to express himself.

A couple weeks ago, Genevieve told Jared that she didn't want him to lose himself in Jensen. As Jared rounds the corner, onto his street, he shakes his head. He hasn't lost himself in Jensen at all. He's found himself through Jensen.

His mom is waiting for him when he walks in the door, the scent of dinner already filling the house. “How was your day, Sweetie?” she asks in a sugary sweet voice that brings Jared's new-found enlightenment into crystal clarity.

“Terrible,” he mutters, continuing on to his room without bothering to look at her.

He's still grounded. His parents still think he's acting out. On the day that Jared realized he's in love for the first time, Jensen broke up with him. None of that bull shit he was thinking on the way home matters at all. In the end, the only feelings and opinions that matter to anyone are their own.

Crawling onto his bed, Jared grabs his pillow and releases the anger that's been wracking his body since he stepped into that bathroom after Trig this morning, since he realized that someone used his phone to call Jensen on Friday and spoke with him for a minute and twelve seconds. Instead of the fury, he feels the crushing weight of loss and sadness and longing, stealing his breath and forcing tears until his body shakes with the ache of it all.

The next time his parents want to punish him for something, he really hopes they'll just hold him down and beat him to death. It couldn't possibly hurt as much.

 

 

As far as Jared is concerned, the worst thing about high school is that you can’t just break up with someone and walk away. Avoidance is impossible, especially since Jensen is in three of his classes and they share the same friends. 

Genevieve was very wrong when she predicted that everyone would up and leave Jared if he couldn’t hang with them anymore. Since he’s been grounded, Aldis still pops up in time to walk to the classes they share, Katie and Misha still eat lunch with him, and Danneel still invites him to every party, even though she knows he can’t actually go. 

Jensen is the only person who won’t talk to him, won’t even look at him, which sucks because Jensen is the only one that really matters.

Six weeks into what he likes to refer to as his extended sentence – a month for the fight, and an undetermined number of extra weeks for sneaking out - his dad comes into his room while Jared is reading about the shift in social consciousness in the 1960’s. He barely spares a passing glance toward the door; it’s still hard to look at his dad, knowing that he sabotaged Jared’s relationship with Jensen and that he truly believes it was the right thing to do.

“Did you need something?” Jared finally asks when his father doesn’t speak. His dad seems far more interested in studying the photographs of Jared and his friends on the bulletin over Jared’s desk.

Without turning, his dad says, “You look happy here,” while pointing to a picture of Jared, arm slung over Jensen’s shoulder on the massive deck behind Katie’s house. “And here,” he moves on to another photo, one of Danneel about to fall off of his back in Jensen’s basement. 

“They’re my friends,” Jared answers with a shrug. It’s nice that his father is finally seeing what is, quite literally, right in front of his face, but Jared told his parents that he was happy months ago and they didn’t want to listen.

Sighing, his dad sinks to the end of the bed. “You’ve been working hard lately,” he commends. At least, Jared thinks it’s supposed to be a commendation. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. “Your mother and I have talked it over and we’ve decided that you’ve earned a little more freedom. We still want to know where you’re going and who’s going to be there but, effective immediately, you’re no longer grounded.”

Jared looks up for the first time, curiosity piqued. “Yeah?” 

His dad just nods and stands, running his hands over the pleats in his pants. “You’re probably gonna wanna call Jensen,” he says, offering what Jared assumes is supposed to be a small smile of apology, or maybe a truce.

“We’re not really,” he starts to say before he remembers he’s not supposed to be talking to either of his parents. “We don’t talk anymore.”

He interacts as politely as he can to get by, but sometime in the last six weeks, he’s decided that he’s going to act like an immature brat if they’re going to treat him like one. It makes more sense in his head.

“I’m sorry, kid,” his dad says, taking a step closer to the bed so he can pat Jared’s shoulder. “Jared?” When Jared looks up, finds his dad looming like the giant he used to seem to be when Jared was younger, his dad’s frown deepens. “I’m really sorry.”

Jared doesn’t need a pie chart and translator to figure out what his dad is saying. Maybe he’s just tired of being angry all the time – the constant roll of his thoughts and feelings, from miserable to okay to pissed off and back again - has proven to be draining and a little nauseating, sort of like emotional seasickness or something. Who knows? Maybe, on some kind of subconscious level, Jared needs his dad more than he thinks he does. 

Instead of analyzing it to death, he just shakes his head and says, “Thanks.”

If only his relationship with Jensen were so easily repaired.

 

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

If Jared wasn’t so distracted by the feeling of strong fingers digging into his hip and hot lips against the column of his throat, he would definitely be answering Danneel. Instead, he just grins and turns his attention back to this guy who swears he goes to Jared’s school. Jared’s pretty sure he’s never seen the kid before in his life but he’s drinking for the first time in two months, so maybe Jared is wrong.

“Jared,” Danneel tries again, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking until Jared has to wrench away from his new friend in order to free himself. “Listen to me.”

He tries. Really, Jared does try to listen to Danneel, but over her shoulder, he can see Jensen making out with fucking Matt Bomer on the couch. It’s really fucking hard – pun totally intended – to pay attention to much of anything else when that’s playing in the background.

Jensen’s head tips back, his hand buried in the back of Matt’s hair, and he turns his head. When his eyes open, they fix with laser precision in Jared’s direction and Jared’s heart leaps into his throat. Jensen just watches him until Matt apparently finds exactly the right spot on his neck and Jensen’s eyes close, his groan loud enough for Jared to hear it across the room and above the sound of the driving bass rhythm on the stereo.

“Come on,” he says to his own companion for the evening. He doesn’t know the guy’s name, but that doesn’t seem important right now. What’s important is the way Jensen watches him leave with someone else.

Jared just hopes it makes Jensen as crazy and Jensen is making him.

 

 

On Monday morning, Aldis tells him that Jensen took Bomer home on Saturday night and that they went to some skeet shooting range with Matt’s dad on Sunday afternoon. 

Awesome.

Jared doesn't admit that he left his guy high and dry in an upstairs bathroom because the thought of anyone but Jensen shoving a hand down his pants made Jared want to throw up.

 

 

To cap off an awesome week, Jared's regular lunch routine is disrupted by a torrential downpour. Since he's not about so sit through twenty minutes of Jensen and Matt slobbering all over each other, he heads for the library with Genevieve. She's been on his nerves lately, constantly asking him how he feels and what he's thinking, but she'll have to tone it down in the library. That almost makes eating in there worth it.

“Jared! Man, wait up!”

It's the last voice he expects to hear calling his name down the near-empty hallway.

Slowing to a stop, he waves Genevieve on before he turns. “What's up, Bomer?” He doesn't bother trying to appear congenial. What's the point?

Matt runs a hand through his thick hair and Jared thinks it would be easy to see why Jensen likes the guy if, ya know, Jensen didn't _like_ the guy. His smile alone is electric.

“Look, man, I know I'm probably the last person you wanna talk to right now. I get that. I know how it looks or whatever, but Jensen and I. Dude, we're not together.”

Shaking his head, Jared prays that he looks more apathetic than he actually is. “Whatever. You don't owe me an explanation, man.” More than he ever wanted Jensen's mouth on his dick, Jared wants Matt to stop talking about his relationship with Jensen right now.

“I'm not tryin' to give you one,” Matt assures him, holding his hands up in surrender. “Look, I love that guy, okay? Our dads have been business partners since before we were born. We grew up together. Sure, he gives really fantastic head, but otherwise, we're kind of like brothers, ya know?”

Jared holds a hand up to stop Matt from lodging his foot any further down his own throat. “Is there a point to all of this?” he asks.

With another dimpled grin, Matt rests a hand on Jared's shoulder like they're best friends or something. “Look, we have an awesome time together, Jensen and I, but I've kinda got this other thing I been workin' on for awhile, this guy at Central, and I can't get back to that until you take Jensen back.”

It's so absurd that Jared can't help laughing. He's spent the last week thinking about how happy Jensen looks with Matt and how perfect Matt is for Jensen. He's convinced himself in every possible way that Matt is better for Jensen than Jared is. Now Matt is telling him that he's wrong? What kind of bizarro world is this?

“He wants me back so bad that he sent you to beg for him?”

Shaking his head as though Jared is ridiculous, as though he didn't just do that very thing, he says, “No. He thinks I had to piss. Just. Okay, look,” he says, body shifting as he tries another angle, “Jensen is very intelligent, but he's also an idiot. He's not gonna tell you that he misses you since you broke up with him because he thinks he'll look pathetic. I don't know. If you ask me, pretending to be in love with somebody to make your ex jealous is pretty fucking pathetic anyway, but you didn't ask me. So just think about it okay?”

He leaves Jared standing in the middle of the hall, holding an apple in one hand and a Hostess cherry pie in the other, staring at the lockers lining the wall and wondering what the hell just happened.

Genevieve is pretending to read when Jared finally makes his way to the library and sinks into the chair at her side. “Was Bomer a total dick?” she asks, slamming her book shut immediately. “Please say 'no.' He is way too pretty to hate.”

“He wasn't a dick,” Jared assures her. “He just wants me to get back together with Jensen so he can go hit on some guy at my old school.”

Genevieve opens her mouth to speak and then snaps it shut again. “Oh,” she says dumbly. “I would not have guessed that.” She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts and then asks, “What do you wanna do?”

The problem is that Jared doesn't know. Sure, he's spent a lot of time in the last couple of months thinking about Jensen, but he hasn't really let himself believe that there might be a chance they could get back together. “I should be over him by now.”

With a soft hand on his forearm, Genevieve gives him a look that says he's the cutest kitten at the shelter. “Jared, this is your first big love. You're never gonna be over this one.”

“You're a terrible friend,” he says, wiggling his toes inside his sneakers just to make sure that his body isn't as numb as his brain feels.

She leans her head against his shoulder and sighs. “You want me to hate him for you? I will if you want me to.”

Jared has to smile a little at that as he sinks back into his chair and shakes his head. “Nah. He's way too pretty to hate.”

 

 

When Aldis asked Jared if he wanted to come over and play Call of Duty tonight, Jared figured there would be other people here, too. He just didn't expect to walk into some kind of fucked-up intervention.

“What's goin' on?” he asks, cautiously slipping out of his jacket as Danneel, Katie, Aldis, and Misha stare back at him from the couch in Aldis' living room.

Danneel hitches a thumb over her shoulder and says, “Go talk to him before he jumps.”

Eyes shooting to the sliding glass door wall, Jared sees Jensen sitting at the edge of Aldis' little brother's tree house. He's kicking his feet and staring at the ground, red plastic cup forgotten at his side. It's simultaneously adorable and pitiful. 

“Why me?” Jared asks, rolling his eyes when they all shoot him the same, bewildered look. “I'm kidding. Jesus, fine.”

He's not ready for this. He hasn't even thought about what he would actually say if he got the chance to talk to Jensen alone. He's been so busy avoiding that very thing that it hasn't seemed relevant until now. 

Climbing carefully up the ladder and onto the tree house platform, Jared takes a second to think that this is not like any tree house his dad ever built for him. It's like a mini-mansion in the middle of the biggest tree Jared's ever seen outside of the forest. 

It takes him a second to still his pounding heart, his palms sweating against the thighs of his jeans, and then Jared figures he's got nothing to lose. It's not like he can have _less_ of Jensen when this conversation is over. 

“Some unsolicited advice, dude?” Jared starts with a smile, sinking to the floor and dangling his legs next to Jensen's. “Easier to make friends if you actually move closer to the people.”

Though he cracks the slightest hint of a smile, Jensen doesn't say anything right away. When he does, his gaze is fixed somewhere in the distance, shielded by those stupid aviators. “What're you doin' here?”

Jared figures he should probably tell Jensen the truth, just come clean right here about missing him and being miserable without him. That feels like giving in, though, and Jared's still not sure he's the one that should be apologizing here.

“Where's Bomer?” he asks instead, knowing full well it's a douche move.

Jensen doesn't look surprised, just rueful. “I know he told you the truth.”

“So all this moping,” Jared leads, gesturing vaguely with a finger in Jensen's general direction, “is because I now know about your pitiful attempt to make me jealous?” 

He doesn't know why he's pushing. Jensen just ignites something in Jared that wants to fight, wants to press and argue and feel something more intense than the everyday apathy of being seventeen.

Jerking sharply, Jensen raises an eyebrow and says, “Oh, like it wasn't working.” The accusation is clear as he shifts his body toward Jared. “You wouldn't even look at me!”

“You weren't lookin' at me, either!” Jared huffs an incredulous laugh and turns just enough to face Jensen before he rakes his fingers through his hair. “You're the one who wanted space and distance to go back to doin' what you were doin' before you met me. You don't get to pin it on me because it didn't pan out the way you wanted it to.”

“ _I'm_ the one that wanted space? Dude, you're the one that left me in the parking lot with a 'fuck you' and not so much as a 'have a nice day.' If anyone is to blame here, it sure as hell isn't me.” Jensen's hands are shaking when he jumps to his feet and clenches his fists at his sides. “Nobody wanted this to work more than I did,” he adds.

Standing just as quickly, Jared shakes his head and jabs a finger against his own chest. “What about me, Jensen? You don't think I wanted this to work? You don't think you're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me? You're the one who sent me to my room when I couldn't hang out with you in the middle of the night anymore!'

As quickly as his anger had flared, Jensen's shoulders deflate. “Is that really what you think? That I just didn't wanna wait for you?” With a frustrated shake of his head, he adds, “You're a fucking idiot.”

“Well, what was I supposed to think? You have a reputation.” It's a weak argument and Jared knows it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. 

“I stand corrected,” Jensen concedes with a scowl. “ _I'm_ the fucking idiot here. I'm the one who actually let myself believe you were different, that maybe you saw past all that bullshit everybody thinks they know about me.”

Jared deserves that, but it still hurts to hear the disappointment in Jensen's tone. “So remind me,” he suggests, anger ebbing as Jensen's shoulders stiffen. It's an unspoken challenge, an impasse, and Jared will be damned if he's going to back down like he does with everyone else. “Take off those damn glasses for a second and show me who you are again.”

It feels like a stupid request, but it feels important right now.

Hesitating, Jensen pulls the glasses off with both hands and the bloodshot ache in his eyes surprises Jared. “Jesus, you look like shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

It makes Jensen laugh, short and unamused. “Yeah, well,” he finally says. “It's your fuckin' fault.”

Jared probably shouldn't take pride in that statement, but he does anyway. He likes knowing that Jensen is this fucked up over him, as fucked up as Jared is over Jensen. Suddenly, this whole thing is the funniest thing Jared has ever been a part of and he can't stop himself from bellowing a loud laugh into the silence of the evening.

“Sure,” Jensen says, a smile cracking the corner of his lips. “Go ahead and mock my tragic heartbreak, Jared. That's really nice.”

“How many dark poems did you write about your epic manpain?” Stepping closer, Jared reaches out to hook his finger through one of Jensen's belt loops. “C'mon. You can tell me.”

Eyes narrowing, Jensen's struggle to look unaffected is written all over the scrunched expression on his face. “Probably not half as many as you wrote about yours,” is his response.

Jared can't help feeling like the three-ton elephant that's been sitting on his chest for weeks just got up. Throwing his head back, he laughs for what feels like the first time. 

While Jared has missed joking around with Jensen in the last couple of months, he wants more than just the friendship they built when they met. Jensen teases everyone; Jared doesn't want to be just another guy to him. 

Jensen isn't going to take this further. He's not going to take the next step, so Jared licks his lips, swallows his pride, and says, “I miss you.” 

He doesn't expect Jensen to return the sentiment, but he has to admit that it feels good to see him nod and then shrug his agreement. When he tangles a hand in the back of Jared's hair and pulls him forward, it feels even better.

It's easy to forget that they're not totally alone when Jensen kisses him, the familiar taste of Jensen's tongue exploding against Jared's as Jared grips Jensen's hips tight and pulls him in tight against Jared's chest. 

Fortunately, the catcalls and whistles from the house remind him.

“You wanna get outta here?” Jensen asks him.

Jared doesn't even have to think about his answer. “More than anything.”

 

 

“What time do you have to be back again?” 

Jared rolls his eyes and stretches against the sleeping bag Jensen has laid out in the bed of his truck. “Midnight,” he answers for the third time, folding his arms behind his head.

The moon is full overhead, filtering through the trees in silver threads that wash the color from everything around them. It's a little cold, but Jared has a feeling that's not going to be a problem for long. At least he hopes it's not.

Draping his legs over Jared's, Jensen leans his back against the truck's side wall. “You're supposed to be at Aldis',” he points out.

“Dude.” Jared props himself up on his elbows and levels Jensen with a flat glare. “Let me worry about my parents, okay?”

“I did. Until your dad called me at seven-fucking-thirty on a Friday morning to tell me to stay the hell away from you.” He says it like it's supposed to be a joke but Jared can tell that it still bothers Jensen.

With a sigh, he sits and rests his arms against his upturned knees. “I'm really sorry about that,” he apologizes. “That was between me and him. They never should have dragged you into it.”

“You wanna know somethin' really fucked up?” When Jared nods, Jensen goes on. “Don't get me wrong, I don't ever wanna have that conversation again or anything. But, I don't know, he said somethin' that kinda... He told me that you were -” Jensen stops, eyes squinting as though he's trying to find the exact words in his memory, “incapable of thinking rationally when it came to me.”

Jared snorts because it certainly doesn't sound like the kind of thing that would make him react like Jensen is right now, biting his lower lip like he's trying to hold back a smile. 

“Maybe I'm just fucked up, man, but I think it's kinda cool that you're all irrational and illogical about me.” He looks up just enough to find Jared with the corner of his eye. “I don't know. That's kinda what I think love is supposed to be, ya know?”

For a word that's so small, it sure packs a hell of a punch. 

“My dad played football in college,” Jared finds himself saying, never stopping to wonder if this is going to make sense outside of his head. “You know how big he is, right? My mom has this picture of me and my brother wearing his jersey, like at the same time. My brother was eight, I think. I was, like, three. It just totally swallowed both of us up. Went all the way to the floor. You can barely see the top of my head in it.”

Jensen doesn't push for an explanation, but he doesn't look like he's getting it, either.

“It's like that, I think.” Jared looks straight into Jensen's eyes even though he can feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck and into his ears. “Love, I mean. Like it feels too big or something. We tripped up every time we tried to move in that thing, man. But I remember thinking that it was so cool that we were in there at the same time, that we both fit in it together.” He laughs at himself humorlessly before he lays back down and stares up at the splash of stars against the black sky. “Or maybe I'm just bein' a melodramatic bitch. I don't know.”

He feels Jensen's hand on his stomach just before he feels the length of his body settling in next to Jared's. He hooks one leg over Jared's and presses his lips to the side of Jared's neck. “I missed you, too,” he confesses in a voice so low, Jared thinks maybe he misheard.

Turning his face, Jared brings one arm up between them to brush his knuckles over the warm skin exposed between Jensen's tee shirt and his jeans. “Yeah?” 

Eyes drifting closed, Jensen nods. His eyelashes brush against Jared's jaw when his fingers slip under Jared's shirt and skim lightly against the soft hair beneath Jared's navel. He doesn't speak; he doesn't have to when he lifts his head to suck Jared's bottom lip between both of his. 

Jared shifts to his side, causing Jensen's thigh to press tighter between Jared's legs as Jared grips the sides of his head and takes control of a kiss that feels like he's been waiting an eternity to have. It's different now than it used to be.

When Jensen's hand slides around Jared's waist, his hand firm against Jared's back, Jared pulls away. “If I get a flashlight in the face this time, I swear to fuck all, Jensen.” His voice is barely audible above his jagged breath. He wants this, isn't sure he can wait anymore. If they get interrupted, Jared might have to kill someone.

“Won't,” Jensen promises, thumb teasing the skin under Jared's waistband. “My dad owns this land,” he explains, lifting one hand to push Jared's hair out of his face. “Private property. No cops. Didn't wanna risk it this time.”

It's probably the first time Jensen has ever _not_ wanted to take a risk. It's probably the first time Jared's been glad about that.

He's thought about this more times than he wants to admit, peeling his sweatshirt over his head while Jensen strips out of his own tee shirt. He's imagined what it would look like to see Jensen laid out, chest flushed and eyes fixed solely on Jared. Jared's imagination is for shit, though. Jensen has never looked this good in Jared's head.

Jensen's legs fall open to cradle Jared, his arms wrapping around Jared's back until Jared falls against him. The air around them is chilled but their skin is warm, causing a shiver to shoot through Jared's spine, though he's not entirely sure it's the weather that's making him shake. 

One of Jared's favorite things is that Jensen kisses like he might never get another chance to do it, totally abandoned to any inhibitions, as though he needs to make this the best kiss he's ever had, just in case he’s right. His hands grip at Jared's hips and he moans low from the back of his throat, like the sound can't be held in his chest anymore.

Jensen's voice is ragged when he pulls back to ask, “What do you wanna do?” against Jared's jaw.

_Everything_ pops into his head, but Jared doesn't say it. He's too busy trying to maintain contact with Jensen's bare skin while avoiding the throbbing ache of his dick, hard and desperate for friction. The most humiliating thing in the world would be for his first time to end before it even starts.

Instead, he groans as Jensen buries one hand in his hair and yanks his head back. “Come on, Jensen. Don't be that guy,” he pleads softly.

“What guy?” It irritates Jared that Jensen's breathing has evened out enough to form a two-word sentence without panting. “The guy who gives a fuck that he's taking your virginity? Sorry, man,” he apologizes with a bright smile. “I'm totally gonna be that guy.” He lifts his head far enough to press a quick kiss to Jared's chin before he lays back and guides Jared's face to the bend of his neck. “I give a fuck about you. Sue me.”

Jared has to chuckle; he's afraid he might cry if he doesn't. It's more frustration than actual emotion, if that counts for anything. “I don't even care,” he whines. “Just get a hand on my dick and I don't care what you do with it from there, please.” 

He can feel Jensen smile against his cheek, his hands trailing Jared's side slowly. If he didn't know better, if Jensen hadn't done this a hundred more times than Jared already, Jared might think that Jensen's hand feels like it's trembling by the time it reaches Jared's belt. 

“Roll over for me, okay?” Jensen says. 

This time Jared knows that he's not imagining things. Jensen's voice is shaking along with his fingers. “Are _you_ okay with this?” he asks, the terrible thought that maybe Jensen doesn't want this with him flooding over him.

Tongue trapped between his lips, Jensen fumbles Jared's belt and button open. When he looks up, his nerves are showing. Sliding Jared's zipper down, Jensen nods. “I'm good.” 

It's difficult to be worried about anything when Jensen slips his hand over Jared's underwear, cupping his dick and rubbing his palm over it softly. “Oh, god,” he groans, eyes clenching shut because no amount of willing it away is going to drag this out long enough. “Stop.”

Jensen draws his hand back like Jared's dick is made of fire. He doesn't speak, only gapes with wide eyes as though he's broken a valuable heirloom or something.

Breathing heavy through his nose, Jared rolls onto his back and covers his eyes with his arm. “This is gonna suck,” he says. When he manages to lift his arm far enough to see Jensen's mortified expression, he bolts upright. “God, not you. You're, shit, Jensen, you're perfect. Maybe just a little too perfect, ya know?” 

He can see the moment that his meaning dawns on Jensen, can tell from the broad spread of Jensen's mischievous grin. “Sit up,” he orders, nodding toward the side of the truck. “Lean back over there.”

Though moving is a little painful, Jared does as he's told, doing his best to look anywhere but at Jensen. It's embarrassing enough to have called it off in the middle, but to see Jensen laughing at him is worse.

“Hey,” Jensen whispers, hands on Jared's shoulders as he slides in between Jared's spread knees. “Look at me, Jared, it's fine.” 

Jared's eyebrow shoots up incredulously. “There's no way your first time was this awkward.”

With a shrug, Jensen reaches back into Jared's jeans and lets his gaze drop between them as he pulls Jared's dick out, head shining obscenely wet in the pale light from the moon. “Dude, my first time was so cliché, it's embarrassing,” he admits. 

Jared chuckles, tries to zero in on Jensen's words instead of the ridiculously smooth feeling of his thumb rolling over the head of Jared's dick. If he can do that, maybe this can last more than a minute.

“I'm serious. I was at summer camp, for one thing. And I was with Bomer, who was my best friend, so you can tick that box, too.” 

He doesn't mean to tense his shoulders at the mention of that name, but Jared thinks maybe it's understandable that it bothers him a little. 

Jensen just leans in and kisses him, a slow, lazy roll of his tongue along Jared's lower lip. “I came in my pants and he made fun of me for the next three weeks.” Sliding his hand down Jared's cock, he whispers, “Your first time is better, believe me,” against his ear.

That's all it takes. One pump and a little breath against his ear and Jared can't hold it. He's spurting against Jensen's fist, his face buried against Jensen's shoulder in humiliation while he mutters, “shit, shit, shit,” against Jensen's skin.

Chuckling, Jensen continues to stroke Jared through his orgasm. When he pulls back, he grabs Jared's chin with his free hand and forces Jared to look at him. “Hey, guess what?” Jared can only imagine how disbelieving his face must look when Jensen kisses him and then pulls back to run a thumb over Jared's lower lip. “You are so fucking hot when you come.”

He flushes, face so hot he has to look away. “Shut up.”

“No, you are,” Jensen insists. “Which just means that we're gonna have to do this a lot more, 'cause I gotta see that again.” He licks his lips and slinks back a little bit. “Come here. Lie down with me.”

Jared hesitates. It's not because he doesn't want to believe Jensen, but he still feels raw and a little overwhelmed, exposed. “Jensen.”

“I'm serious,” Jensen interrupts him. “Get over here. Lemme suck you 'til you're hard again. Then I can show you what I get off thinkin' about.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows in the most idiotic way and Jared can't help releasing a tense breath in loud laughter. “You're a dork,” he says as he makes his way back to Jensen's side.

With a nod, Jensen pushes Jared's thighs apart and positions himself between them. “I am,” he agrees with another blinding grin. “And you're stuck with me. So get used to it.”

 

 

Common sense dictates that Jared pack up his books and haul his ass inside. The clouds overhead are dark, the wind is picking up, and the cold is biting through the three shirts that he's wearing under his jacket. There's just nowhere else on campus that he's found he studies as effectively.

He's read three pages of Henrik Ibsen's _A Doll's House_ when a shadow falls over his book and a pink highlighter drops onto the page. He looks up to see Jensen sinking to the grass at his side, pushing his sunglasses onto his head.

“It's cold as balls out here, man,” Jensen announces.

Jared just shakes his head and uncaps the highlighter. “So go inside,” he suggests, though he's leaning into the warmth of Jensen's side as he says it. 

After a long beat of silence, Jensen responds with, “Or you could warm me up,” his voice low and dripping with intent.

It used to turn Jared inside out. Now it just makes him roll his eyes and turn reluctantly, kissing Jensen as though it's some kind of chore. “That's all you get for now. I have to finish reading all of Act One,” he explains, holding the book up for Jensen to see the title before he nods toward his backpack. “Then I gotta study for my Trig final.”

“I aced my Trig final,” Jensen tells him, smug and grinning. “Last year.”

As infuriating as it can be to watch Jensen hide his brains and act like an idiot frat boy, it's equally frustrating to Jared when he flaunts it. “You should tutor me then,” he says. It's supposed to sound disgusted but it's hard to find the bite behind the words when Jared can't stop smiling every time he sees Jensen's face.

“Tell ya what,” Jensen answers, groaning as he makes his way to his feet. “You come inside with me right now, I will help you study for Trig. You can do the reading at home later and bring my highlighter back at Danneel's tonight.”

“Dude, it's, like, fifty-eight degrees out here. You're such a bitch,” Jared teases as he's packing his book away and standing to hitch his bag over his shoulder.

Jensen reaches over to press one cold hand to Jared's cheek. “I'm like a fucking _Twilight_ vampire out here.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jared levels Jensen with a glare. It's a glare that Jensen responds to with a raucous chortle. “That book is totally on your shelf at home, isn't it?” Jensen just shrugs and offers no other explanation. “I can't believe I'm sleeping with you.”

Throwing an arm around Jared's shoulder, Jensen smacks his lips against Jared's cheek, loud and obnoxious. “I know, right? You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Jared would disagree, but he can't. Six months ago, he was sure that his senior year was going to be like every other year of high school had been, something to endure and survive. He's lucky that he was wrong.


End file.
